


Cold Hands, Pastel Coats

by Invisiblyhappy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angel Louis Tomlinson, Angel Wings, Death, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Heaven, M/M, Murder, Neighbors, No Smut, Overworking, Past Lives, Rock Star Harry Styles, Sad, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29522811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invisiblyhappy/pseuds/Invisiblyhappy
Summary: An angel and his rock star, they both have dark pasts better forgotten, and difficult presents that can be overcome, but only with each other.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Everything was a bright white around Louis, his fingertips were dipped in something so soft it almost felt like air. His body still hurt from his life. The life that betrayed him. He remembers the eyes that carried him to his grave, those cold, unforgiving eyes. 

His eyes were still firmly closed, scared of what was next to come. He heard a voice in his head apologise, they apologised for not giving him more time. More time to love. To live. 

When he finally opened his eyes he realised he was laying on a ivory cloud, with nothing but bright blue sky around him. When he looked down he saw the rain beaten street, the sky below him was dark, and there, in the streetlight he could see a bloody body, curled inwards. He could hear faint yells and cheers. Could still feel the boots being kicked into his ribs. Feel the cold of the iron pole they had found collide with his collarbone. He remembered the laughs that surrounded him, the chill of the air as his final breath left his lung.

He sighed, said a final goodbye to his old life, and looked to the new. He didn’t know where he was going, or how long he’d been asleep for, but he could feel something deep inside him that was suddenly ignited. 

His world fades to black one more time and he both wants it and hates it. He wises he could see what could’ve been. What should’ve been. He knows he can’t stay and so welcomes the darkness, begging to forget this life and start anew. 

When he wakes again he is surrounded by more golden clouds, and a ball of light is floating above him. 

“How long have I been asleep?” 

The light floats closer to Louis, hovering above his face, 

“Over 100 years.” 

The voice is deep and dark, yet simultaneously light and airy. Feminine, yet masculine. Louis sighs, he feared that he’d wake up in another time. A time without love. A time where he’s been forgotten. 

“What is the year?” 

“2020.” 

Louis closed his eyes tight, begging to be taken back. He wished his death to be final. To just fade to black. For everything to be over. 

“And what of my family, my life?” 

The ball of light seemed to smile, Louis could feel the air around him lighten. 

“It’s just a story now. You’re just a story now. A portrait in an old loft.” 

Louis sighed again, that’s probably for the best. 

“What happens now?” 

The light hovered away from Louis and towards what looked like giant golden gates. He sits up as the ball of light seems to somehow gesture to the gates. Louis moves, his back aching. As he approaches the gates the light speaks again, 

“You have a choice.” 

The golden gates opened and the air in front of him transformed into a bustling city of clouds, with hundreds of people in light clothing rushing around. Everything was peaceful. That’s all he felt. Peace. For the first time in years, he finally felt peace. But something was missing. Someone. He could feel another soul gone. He looked to the ball, floating beside his head. 

“What’s my choice?” 

“You can stay here, or return to Earth.” 

Louis looked across at all the people. He thought that maybe he could be happy here. After all, isn’t that what paradise is for? But how can he be happy without knowing? Louis was a curious little thing, always had been. And he needed to know. Had anything changed? 

“Does everyone get that choice?” 

The light seemed to look to the floor, almost in shame. 

“No. Only those who died before their time. They get a second chance.” 

Before Louis could take these words in, he falls to his knees, screaming in pain. His back felt as if it were on fire and he wondered if he were actually in hell. He had two distinct slashes of pain clawing their way down his back. The light reached out a hand and ran it down his spine. A cooling sensation immediately followed and Louis sighed in pleasure. 

“What’s happening to me?” 

“You’ve made your choice.” 

Louis looked up to the ball of light, eyebrows furrowed. 

“What are you talking about?” 

The air around Louis smiled again, 

“Your wings are coming through. Those who chose to return become angels.” 

Louis moved his hand to feel two large openings on his back. He gasped, with tears in his eyes. He couldn’t feel any wings though, and that scared him. 

“There’s nothing there.”

“Give it time. They’ll take a while to come through.” 

The light chuckled, and Louis nodded, he was in a daze, not properly taking anything in. Him? An angel? Surely not. 

“How long?” 

“A week or two. Then we’ll send you back down.” 

Louis’ eyebrows furrowed again. Why does he have wings if he is just to be human? He stops in his tracks and faces the light, 

“There’s a catch isn’t there?” 

He can feel the light smirk at his question, and sighs. There’s always a catch. 

“There’s only one way you can return to Earth, and that’s as a guardian angel.” 

Upon hearing those words his heart skipped a beat. He knew what was coming. And he didn’t want it. 

“Have I been assigned to someone?” 

The light nodded, speaking delicately.

“That’s why your wings came through. They only come through once you’ve been matched.” 

Louis sighs again and rubs his temples. He knew it. It couldn’t be simple could it? 

“Who have I been assigned to?” 

The light shook its.. head? 

“We don’t know. That’s why we send you down.” 

“But how will I know?” 

Louis was panicking now, this seems like it will be a difficult job. And he just died! This is literally the last thing he needs. The light looked at him and Louis knew the expression it was making, he rolled his eyes. 

“Let me guess;  _I’ll just know_.” 

Louis never believed in angels, but when thinking about them, never in his wildest dreams did he think that growing wings would be this painful. But thinking about it, it makes sense, you’re basically growing extra limbs from scratch, forming nerves and attaching cells. They grew a few inches every hour for a week. And it was hell. It was like his back was ripped open every time. He felt blood trickle down his legs, and saw it pooling around his feet.His heart beat quick and his breathing was fast. Hard. He forgets the pain the second it stops, until the next hour. When he screams, no one comes running, they all look knowingly. He hates them. How can this be the everlasting paradise he’s heard of? These people are psychotic. It’s the worst week of his life. Afterlife? But then, it’s Wednesday, and he doesn’t get any pain. It takes him a while to realise it. 

Standing in front of the mirror, he twists and turns, he can see the two gashes on his back and wonders if they’ll ever heal. He sighs, urging his wings to open. To even show themselves. But nothing happens. When he turns around, the ball of light is floating there, and Louis rolls his eyes. 

“Why aren’t they there?” 

The light chuckles and Louis sighs heavily. 

“You have to want them.” 

Louis couldn’t believe it, could it be any more cliche? 

“I have to tell you though; they have a mind of their own. Yours seem to be particularly stubborn.” 

Of. Fucking. Course. He couldn’t have it easy, could he? 

But then he sees him. Walking. Out in the open. Unaffected by anything or anyone. As if he wasn’t a criminal. Cold eyes meet Louis’ and a smirk forms on his lips. Immediately, his back is ripped open and his screams echo through the streets and skies. He falls to the floor as blood snakes it’s way down he back. Tears mix on the floor with the blood. His breathing is hard and heavy, and his eyes are shut tightly. 

“Open your eyes.” 

Louis shakes his head and tightens his eyes. 

“No. I’m not ready.” 

The pain hasn’t stopped, everything is burning. But he can feel them. They’re wrapped around his body, as soft as air. They’re strong, holding him together. 

Louis breathes shakily and slowly opens his eyes. His wings are bigger than he’d imagined, and each feather has a slight green shimmer to it. They sparkle in the sunlight and engulf his whole body. He carefully gets up, his legs are like jelly. They’re heavy and light at the same time. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and gasps. Tears pricking his eyes. He can’t help but be in awe of how beautiful they are. Of how beautiful he is. It’s now that he realises how ethereal his features are. And how much being an angel suits him. 

“Those are probably the most beautiful wings I’ve ever seen.” 

Louis rolls his eyes, he’s not one to believe a compliment when it comes his way, but looking at his wings in the mirror makes him smirk. They _are_ the most beautiful wings. He turns to face the light, 

“When can I go down, then?” 

“You think you’re ready?” 

Louis sighs, and thinks about it carefully. Is he ready? Ready for what exactly? 

He lets his mind wander that night. He thinks of society. He thinks of the laws. He thinks of love. Would he be able to love who he wants? Is it okay? Or will he die because of it? Is he remembered? But then his mind wanders to the man. That disgusting man. The light appears as Louis’ heart begins to race. Racing with the fear of years ago. 

“He wasn’t real.” 

Louis raised his eyes to the orb floating above him. 

“He wasn’t?” 

The light shakes, and Louis assumed that meant it was shaking its head. 

“I wanted to see if you’re wings would protect you, even from your own emotions.” 

Louis scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“Why? You had to put me under that kind of duress just to see my wings? Was it worth it?” 

The light dimmed a little, showing how delicately it felt it’s shame. 

“Wings that show themselves when not in immediate danger, but just because their human is in pain, are the most beautiful and powerful of them all. You should be very proud of your wings. They will protect you forever with the fiercest loyalty.” 

Louis was beginning to shake. He was put through all that because his wings might have shown? In what world is this paradise? It’s like his own little pocket of hell.

He wakes up the next morning, sun blinding him as he blinks open his eyes. His room is one he doesn’t recognise, a mobile phone is charging next to him on a bedside table. His bedroom was lightly furnished, with a bed, wardrobe, desk and bedside table. As he looked around, he had to roll his eyes, the room practically glowed white. 

“Guess I’m ready then?” 

Louis said, less to himself, more to anyone who would listen. 

As he moves to get up he notices the iPhone laying next to him, as he goes to touch it, it buzzes with a message, making Louis jump out of his skin, 

“What the fuck is that?” 

Just as he reaches out a second time, it buzzes again, at which point Louis gets to his feet, shaking his head. 

“I think the fuck not.” 

Louis resolves to explore his new apartment, moving through the rooms with a childlike awe. 

“Blimey! How times have changed!” 

He opened the fridge to find it fully stocked, and each of the cupboards full with cans and breads, as well as everything he could possibly need to cook with. 

On one wall in the living room was a tv, the remote of which was on a table in the middle of the room. Sitting on the couch facing the tv, Louis observes the remote, turning it in his hand. 

“Maybe I’m not ready.” 

He pressed the red button as the tv turned on, and he jumped back, further into the sofa. A slight screech made its way up his throat before more curiosity took over. 

On the screen was a man and woman both dressed smartly, sitting in front of a glass desk, seemingly interviewing a young man to the right of the screen. He looked young, a little younger than Louis, despite the fact that Louis knew he looked older than when he died, but was unsure of his exact age. He was polite to the man and woman, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. And the questions didn’t make any sense to Louis. All they asked about was women and sex and more women. Can they ask that? Isn’t that _private_?

By the end of the interview, Louis had no idea who this man was or why he was being interviewed. But Louis was drawn to him, and had a sinking feeling as to why. This man who was so polite and sweet, but whose eyes looked almost fearful and so very tired. The man was barely 25 but whose eyes looked 60. 

Louis continued his exploration, pushing the man from his mind. He quickly found the bathroom, and was happy to see that running water was still happening. 

“Nothing too modern, thank god!”, 

And eventually ended up back in his bedroom, where he found a wardrobe full of clothes and shoes for every occasion. On his desk sat a wallet with £100 in cash, and a debit card, which was later found to have more than enough money on. 

Finally, Louis scraped enough courage together to touch the buzzing thing on his nightstand. He tapped it once and it lit up, as most phones do. He had two messages from an number with the name of “Light”, and rolled his eyes. Raising the phone to his face, seeing a small padlock open and swipes up. 

Louis spends the morning playing with his phone, the messages from the light explained his age and where he was. Louis died when he was 18, and had aged 5 years in the time he had been unconscious, making him now 23. He didn’t mind. What worried him was how was he going to explain anything to anyone? 

He doesn’t have to pay for rent as the apartment didn’t even exist before him, and now he owns it. That made him smile, less to worry about. He doesn’t have any family, well, none that would recognise him. I suppose that makes him an orphan of sorts. 

He looked at the time and realised just how early he had woken up, he’d been up for hours and it was barely 9am. He sighed happily, moving to his window. The sun was high in the sky and he could see the River Thames, along with the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. London. What a beautiful city, he thought. He had missed London, missed England. 

He sees the cars and buses and smiles to himself. How times have changed. 

“I want to see it up close.” 

He quickly gets showered and dressed. And perhaps I should not mention quite how long it took him to figure out how to run a shower; I’d hate to embarrass him. 

He steals a glance of his back in the bathroom mirror. The gashes are still raw and bloody, still painful to the touch. He shrugs, hoping they’ll heal over time, and gets ready for his day. 

Dressed in black jeans and a grey jumper, he makes his way down to the streets of London; pocketing his wallet, keys and phone. 

Walking out his door felt like a surreal moment. He was alive. He could feel the heart beating in his chest. The blood pumping in his veins. Even the breath in his lungs. He was alive and could feel every little thing. Life, he thought, is so fleeting. Why did he ever not concentrate on the little things? 

He didn’t even realise he had been standing outside his door until he felt a body fall into his. 

“Oh! I’m sorry!” 

Louis recognised him immediately, though his hair looked more messy than it did on the tv and his eyes were now red. 

“Are you okay?” The man sniffles and rubs his nose. 

“Fine. Could you maybe not stand in the middle of the hallway?” 

Louis takes a step back, his shoulder blades hit his front door and he winces in pain as his gashes touch the cold wood. The man furrows his eyebrows and drags his eyes up and down Louis’ body. He then huffs and walks towards metal double doors and pushes a button on the wall, which lights up at the touch. The man turns to look at Louis, who has been staring at him since he walked away. His eyes were wide, full of wonder and curiosity. He walked over, feet moving quicker than he’d like. Eager.

“What’s that?” 

Louis asked once he’d reached the doors, and pointed to the button. 

“The lift button?” 

Louis’ eyes sparkled as the magic of the modern world settled in. 

“What’s a lift?” 

The man furrowed his eyebrows even tighter than before, and Louis suddenly felt small, stupid and shy. 

“I saw you on my picture box this morning.” 

His voice is quiet, almost a whisper. He felt like a child, despite being obviously older than the man in front of him. 

“Where are you from?” 

Louis sighed, he seemed to be saying all the wrong things. 

“London. Here.” 

“But you don’t know what a lift or tv is?” 

“Some people don’t.” 

The man suddenly looked taken aback, Louis’ voice was now louder, defensive. 

“Sorry. A lift is a small room which goes up and down, meaning you can go to different floors without using the stairs.”

“Oh thank you, I had heard of them but my family was too poor to ever see one. Sorry to disturb you.” 

Louis waited patiently for the lift to arrive, standing in silence next to the man from the tv. 

“Harry.” 

The man held out his hand for Louis to shake, which he did hesitantly, 

“Louis.” 


	2. Chapter 2

They traveled down in the lift in silence. Louis kept stealing a glance at Harry, who sniffled every once in a while. 

“What floor were we on?” 

Harry scoffed, watching Louis carefully. 

“Seriously?” 

Louis looked to the floor, cheeks turning a deep red. 

“I’ve just moved in, could you maybe stop being shitty to me for no reason? It’s obvious you’ve had a bad morning, but don’t take it out on me.” 

It was Harry’s turn to look at the floor, and sighed, mentally slapping himself. 

“Sorry. We were on the 14th floor.” 

“Do you live here?” 

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah.” 

Their breaths are loud in the silence that followed. Louis feels a pull to Harry, it’s new and exciting. His feet ache to step closer to the boy in the lift, but he urges them to stay where they are. He watches Harry in the lift mirrors, noting the long eyelashes and the bright green eyes. He felt his heart jump slightly. 

“You’re very pretty.” 

The words are out before Louis can help it. Harry looks at Louis, his eyes have an unusual sparkle to them, and then he smiles. It’s a big smile, it’s genuine. A pair of deep dimples appear on each side of the smile. Louis has to hold himself back from poking one such dimple. 

“You mean it?” 

“Why would I lie?” 

Harry looked to the floor, his smile still wide, eyes ablaze. He seemed to be thinking. Louis wondered what about, his curiosity was taking over. He’d never been curious about a person before; this was new territory to him. 

“Why were you on the tv?” 

Louis’ head is angled to one side, examining the sweet creature in front of him. 

“Y-you don’t know who I am?” 

Harry’s cheeks had turned a beet red, and he could barely look at Louis in the eyes. 

“I don’t know anything.” 

Harry’s brows furrowed, but only for a second before his face softened. 

“I’m a musician.” 

Louis smiled softly, but before he could ask anymore questions, there was a quiet ding and the metal doors opened to a small reception area. Louis could see the outside world and suddenly felt very overwhelmed. 

“This was a mistake.” 

I would say that Harry could ‘sense’ Louis’ nervousness, but in reality, it was painfully obvious. Louis was practically having a panic attack. Harry instinctively flung an arm around Louis and moved him out of the way of the doorway, to instead a small seating area by some rather large windows. 

“Sit, sit. Here.” 

They sit down, and Harry takes Louis’ hands in his. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He isn’t smiling anymore, and Louis misses it. His eyes are sad and deeply concerned. 

“I haven’t been in London in years. The last time I was here I was m- something bad happened.” 

“How bad?” 

Louis removes his eyes from Harry and looks to the floor in pain. He remembers everything, every hit, every crack of his ribs, every cry for help. 

“You can’t imagine.” 

He lets his tears fall, he lets his body sob. Lets his memory be mourned. 

“Want a tour?” 

Louis looks up, his face is tear stained and he suddenly feels embarrassed. A dazzling smile met him, and Louis felt like he knew the man in front of him. 

“Really? Don’t you have to be somewhere?” 

“Nowhere important. C’mon.” 

Harry stands and holds his hand out for Louis to take. Louis hesitates, but takes it nonetheless. 

They step outside and the chilly wind hits Louis like knives. A older couple walks past, takes a look at Harry and Louis’ entwined hands, and gives Louis such a dirty look that he physically feels sick, and drops Harry’s hand, who looks down to his now free palm and sighs. 

“What happened to you?” 

“I don’t think you’d believe me.” 

“Try me.” 

Louis shakes his head looks to the floor. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

Harry chuckles lightly, 

“That’s all you’ve been doing, mate. So, I don’t think you should stop.” 

Louis smiles brightly and Harry thinks of how that smile could blind someone. 

“I don’t really know how to say it.” 

Harry reaches out a hand and caresses Louis’ shoulder, 

“Just say it. The easiest way for you, I’ll figure out what you mean, don’t worry.” 

Louis nodded, tears pricked his eyes, he was suddenly emotional, god only knows why. Harry felt comforting, warm. He didn’t feel new anymore. 

“Can.. b-boys love boys?” 

Louis refused to look at Harry in the eyes, the question scared him. And out loud, the question sounded stupid. What if it was still wrong? Was it ever really wrong? A light chuckle was the response to his question, and Louis relaxed his body slightly. 

“Where have you been?” 

“It’s allowed?” 

Harry chuckled again, dimples appearing. Louis looked to the ground and sighed, his breathing was shaky and Harry could tell what this news meant to him. 

“It’s not just allowed; it’s celebrated.” 

Louis meets Harry’s eyes, and lets his smile out. He lets his body physically relax, and listens to the thump of his heart in his rib cage.

Harry grabs Louis’ hand again and drags him through the streets of London. He hears a few murmurs, and a lot of pointing in his direction, 

“Er, Harry?” 

He simply mumbled in response, still dragging Louis behind him. 

“People are pointing.” 

Harry sighed and slowed his walking, looking around, he saw that he and Louis were surrounded by people filming and taking pictures. Soon, they were completely surrounded and could barely move, he could feel Louis begin to panic in his palm. 

“What’s going on?” 

Harry looked to the floor and closed his eyes tight. Around him he could hear the homophobic mumbles and hushed laughter. 

“Y’know I said I was a musician?” 

Louis nods slowly, very aware of the hundreds of eyes watching his and Harry’s every move. 

“Well, I’d say I’m quite well known.” 

“You’re famous?” 

Harry looks to the floor again, and nods. Louis sighs and nudges him softly in the ribs, when Harry raises his eyes he’s met with a wide, cheeky grin. 

“Well then, how are we getting out of this mess?” 

Harry smiles wide and tightens his grip on Louis, looking around at the crowd and then back to Louis, 

“Run.” 

They quickly find a small gap in the crowd and without thinking, make a run for it. 

They run fast, and they run far. The wind runs it’s fingers through Louis’ hair and he finally feels alive again. The wind is sharp and cold, and Louis can see little clouds of hot air made from his breath, but he doesn’t care. The wind is real. The pain is real. They eventually stop when the sounds of footsteps behind them stop. Panting, Louis looks to his right and sees the river beside him. He doesn’t know exactly where he is, but wherever it is; it’s beautiful. He looks at Harry - who is too, red in the face - and furrows his eyebrows. Because, a strange light has appeared, now outlining Harry. His back starts to itch, gradually becoming a burning sensation. It hurts. And it’s getting more painful by the second. He can feel them, it’s not like before, his wings are inching out of his back; little by little. Louis let’s a small gasp of pain escape his lips, which immediately catches the attention of Harry. Louis can feel blood snaking it’s way down his spine, the pain intensifies and he has to close his eyes tight, his hands forming fists. 

“Are you okay?” 

Louis nods, eyes still closed. He’s urging the wings to disappear, scared to see what’ll happen if they don’t. The pain continues, the wings have reached his jumper and are beginning to rip it. 

“I have to go.” 

Louis breathes the words out, 

“Are you okay?” 

Harry’s voice is submerged in worry. Louis breathes deep, blowing his breath out of his mouth. 

“I’m not well.” 

Louis whispers, and then takes off running back down the street, trying so hard to remember in which direction they had come. Behind him, Harry notices a feather fly from Louis’ jumper, and he catches it in one hand. Examining it, Harry realised that he’s never seen a feather that big, nor that stark a white, it practically glowed in his fingers. But before he could connect the dots, a buzzing in his back pocket tore his attention away from the feather. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vibrating phone, with the screen lighting up as ‘Niall’ was spread across the glass. He answered and put the phone to his ear, turning the feather in his fingers. 

“What, Ni?” 

“You can’t be doing this, Haz. Dan’s going nuts. You were supposed to be here an hour ago! Where are you?” 

“Tower bridge.” 

Harry rolled his eyes at his best friend. 

“What in the world? Get here now.” 

And with those final words from Niall, his phone beeps and goes silent. He pockets the phone again, and stares at the feather once more, before sighing and making the long walk to the recording studio where Niall and his manager, Dan, are waiting. He thinks about throwing the feather in the river, or just leaving in on the ground, amongst the fallen leaves. But instead, holds it in his palm, stroking it as he walks.

Louis runs. He runs quicker than he ever has, or at least that’s what it feels like. He gets lost more than I’d like to admit. London’s quite big, after all. But eventually he finds his steps, he retraces the breaths that he and Harry shared running through the paved streets. Before he knows it, he’s standing at the bottom of a tall building, keys in hand. 

“You all right, mate?” 

A voice comes from behind him, he turns not expecting the voice to be addressing him. He’s met by a pair of chocolate brown eyes, looking at him expectantly. 

“Me?” 

Louis presses a finger to his chest, confusion mapped on his face. 

“Yeah you. You look lost.” 

The man had a soft voice, and Louis immediately felt at ease around him, the opposite of how he felt around Harry. Harry was all passion and electricity. The man was safety and warmth. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just unsure of which of these keys unlocks that door.” 

Louis holds up his two keys, and points to the double doors in front of them. 

“Ah. It’s trial and error I’m afraid, mate. Just try one, if that doesn’t work, try the other.” 

Louis nods, feeling a little bit like a dumbass. Well, more than a little. But hey, give him a break, it’s been a while. 

“Thank you.” 

As Louis walks towards the doors, the man approaches him, hand outstretched. 

“Liam. Oh and, tip; mark which key is which.” 

Louis smiles his sunshine smile and shakes Liam’s hand, 

“Louis, and thanks. Will do.” 

Liam smiles, it creates little crinkles by his eyes and makes Louis feel warm inside. 

“Hey, fancy a cuppa?” 

Liam raises his eyebrows, and gives it a thought. 

“Yeah, go on then.”

Harry walks painfully slowly, letting the time drag. He plays with the feather in his hands, perplexed by - what Harry can only explain as - it’s beauty. It sparkles in the November sun, seemingly dipped in glitter. But it doesn’t feel like glitter, it doesn’t feel like anything on this earth. Or really, anything at all. Harry ignores the people gasping around him, some people pull on his jacket, begging for photographs, which he happily pauses for. After all, he gave everything for this life. He should enjoy it, but all he can think about it the feather in between his fingers, it plagues his mind. And he still can’t put two and two together. 

When he finally arrives at the recording studio, Dan is livid. He’s pacing back and forth, Niall is sitting on the couch, eyes scared but body language suggesting that he’s trying (and failing) to calm Daniel down. Harry rolls his eyes as Niall catches a glimpse of him through the hallway window, and pushes the door to the studio with his shoulder. 

“Where the  _fuck_ have you been?” 

Dan is the one to talk, well, less talk more  _scream his head off._

Harry just shrugs his shoulders, 

“Around.” 

He sees Niall shakes his head in frustration, as Dan’s cheeks go beet red, and with arms outstretched, goes for Harry. And I mean he goes for him, hands wrapped tightly around his neck. Niall has to use all his strength to yank him off of a gasping Harry. 

“What the fuck?” 

He manages to croak out, massaging his throat. 

“Don’t. Just don’t.” 

It’s Niall’s voice, 

“You fucked up, H. Get in there,” 

He gestures to the adjacent room, where Harry was supposed to be hours ago, recording his new album, 

“And try to earn back any sliver of respect I had for you or your music. Okay?” 

Harry doesn’t argue, he shrugs off his jacket, which now holds the precious feather and quietly walks to the other room, grabs the earphones off of the stand above the microphone and sighs, waiting for a voice to tell him what to do. He looks through the glass and sees an animated conversation between his two “friends”, before Dan sits at the mixing console and talks into a small microphone to his right, Niall is sat back on the couch giving Harry a warning glare. 

“Right. You ready?” 

“Depends. You over your homicidal urges?” 

Harry smirks at Dan through the window, but he just growls into the microphone, 

“Not quite.”

Louis welcomes Liam into his flat almost giddily, they had chatted in the lift on the way up, and Louis found out that Liam worked as a teacher at the local secondary school. A job that suited him perfectly, caring and educating others. They entered the flat, and Liam looked around in wonder, and it’s at this point that Louis realised his back doesn’t hurt anymore. He breathes a sigh of relief as he makes his way to the kitchen to make that agreed cup of tea. He examines the kettle, brows furrowed, heart beating. 

“Fuck. How do I turn you on?” 

He whispers aggressively to himself, 

“Just flick the switch.” 

Louis jumps back and turns to see a smirking Liam, 

“Eh?” 

Louis mind is blank, his heartbeat is in his ears and he can feel the embarrassment snake it’s way up his spine. Liam giggles and carefully pushes past Louis, and presses a small tab on the base of the kettle, which lights up at the touch. 

“Damn, you’re really new to this aren’t you?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Louis asks as he makes himself busy getting the mugs, tea bags and sugar ready, he points to the sugar as Liam raises two fingers. 

“This angel thing. You’re new right?” 

Louis turns around so rapidly that he knocks a cream mug straight to the tiled foot, which smashes with a noise much louder than he would like, 

“Shit! Today is so not my day.” 

Liam laughs as he opens a long cupboard in the corner of the kitchen, and appears with a dust pan and brush, he crouches down and sweeps the broken cup up. 

“So, when are you from?” 

Louis blinks hard, letting his lashes rest atop his cheek bones for a few seconds. 

“I’m  _sorry_?” 

Liam laughs again and he moves towards the bin, and throws the pieces of ceramic away. 

“I’m one too. Catch on.” 

Louis opens and closes his mouth as his mind rushes at 100 miles an hour. Liam bustles around the kitchen making the tea as Louis stands flabbergasted. 

“You’re an Angel?” 

Liam rolls his eyes playfully, 

“You don’t seem to be talking this well.” 

“Sorry, I just- how did you know I was?” 

Liam smiles as he gestures to the living room with his head, holding two steaming mugs. He sets them down on the coffee table and sits on the edge of the couch, waiting patiently for Louis to join him. 

“You just know,” 

He starts once Louis has settled next to him, looking at him bewildered, 

“You had the feeling, right? When you saw me? Warm and safe?” 

Louis nods slowly, almost in a daze. 

“That’s the feeling you get when talking to a fellow angel, but it gets stronger the maturer an angel is, so, when are you from?” 

Louis takes a fair few minutes to digest this, at which point Liam starts sipping on his tea. Louis swallows hard, finding it difficult to remember his past life. He doesn’t want to go back there, not even in memory, but he licks his dry lips and breathes out the year he died. 

“1914.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was the dead of night by the time Harry had finished recording. Daniel kept “accidentally” forgetting to record. His voice was hoarse and his eyes were barely open. Niall was snoring peacefully on the couch, he’d been asleep for hours now. 

“Can I go home now?” 

Dan huffed and rolled his eyes, Harry was sure he saw a smug little smile behind the scowl. 

“Fine. But I want to talk to you quickly.” 

_Great_ , Harry thought, _a second bollocking._ As Harry was setting everything back in its place, he watched as Daniel woke Niall (quite violently), and the hand gestures suggested that he was telling him to go home, or maybe to wait in the hallway? Either way, when they talked, Niall was not in the room.

“What do you want, Dan?” 

His manager walked slowly up to Harry and pressed a hand to his shoulder, fingers digging into his shoulder blades, his hand slowly snakes to the nape of Harry’s neck, digging his fingertips deeper around his throat.

“I don’t want you to pull another stunt like today, again. You get that?” 

His voice was low, his eyes dark, Harry could barely see any white. 

“Remember what you’ve given for all this,” 

He gestures to the room around them, 

“I’d hate to see it taken away. Because _he_ can take it all away. Just like that.” 

He snaps his fingers in front of Harry’s eyes and nods once. 

“Noted.” 

Dan smiles a smile that isn’t happy, its not a smile, it’s an upturn of his lips. He digs his nails into Harry’s shoulder before taking his hand away. 

“Get out.” 

Harry tried his hardest to keep his composure, at least until he was in the hallway, where Niall was waiting. He swallowed the lump in his throat, focused everything on his breathing, and quickly walked out the door, letting it fall back into the frame with a loud thump that shook the walls. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Niall immediately jumps up from where he was leaning on the wall, Harry has one hand holding him up, resting on the cream brick, his other is massaging his throat, he can feel the bruise beginning to form. He breaths out shakily, his eyes have started to water and his heart is thrumming in his head. Niall moved quickly, putting both of his hands on Harry’s cheeks, and resting their foreheads together, 

“There’s something I haven’t told you.” 

Now I would tell you what it is that Harry wanted to say, but where’s the fun in that? 

Louis was peacefully sleeping, Liam had left hours ago, but they had agreed to have each other’s backs. Liam was much more well versed in the 21st Century ways, as well as the ways of the angel. He had given Louis his number, as well as teaching him how to use that phone of his. And, well everything else. Poor boy didn’t know how to turn the oven on. 

He dreams of running, bare feet in a meadow, rain starting to fall, sun setting in the sky, casting a burnt orange halo. He’s running just because he can, to feel free. But then the sun sets, and the rain turns to ice, and a flash of lighting changes it from a meadow to a dark, lantern lit street, and he’s running for his life. He can hears the screams and yells behind him, a group of feet chasing him. He feels the rain stick his hair to his head, and then all it takes is one raised cobblestone for his face to hit the ground. It’s dirty and soaked, a streetlight rises above him, 

“There he is, boys!” 

A voice calls, and he uses every bit of his strength to crawl, his fingernails scraping the stone beneath him. He doesn’t know why he’s so weak, he wants to get up, but he’s paralysed. Footsteps appear around him, and shiny boots step on his outstretched arms, crushing the bones underneath. A face comes close, the boy is kneeling down, whispering in Louis’ ear, 

“You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you?” 

It’s dark and bloody, like the devil himself had whispered into his ear. All he can hear is the laughs of the boys around him, they echo in the street, and Louis breathes hard, 

“Please, no. I’m sorry.” 

All he gets are laughs in reply, they turn him over so he can look at the sky, one straddles him and throws a punch to his cheek bone. And another to his jaw. Then his temple. The others join in, they had packed for this assault, bats and knives were held in their hands. Louis could feel every tear in his skin, every break of a bone. They laughed and screamed at him. Telling him to get up, fight back. Instead he just lay there, begging to die. 

“Let us have our fun first!” 

One yelled at him, and the others joined in the chorus. He goes to protect his organs, but they just stretch him out and there goes another blow.Some started kicking, every rib broke, he felt each one go. He sobbed into the street, his tears melted into the blood. One final blow and a scream bounced off the walls of his flat, the thunder drowned it out, sweat dripping and sticking his hair to his head. 

He breathed heavily and opened his eyes, his wings had wrapped themselves tightly around him, and were seemingly rocking him. He snuck a hand from the cocoon and tentatively touched the crown of his head, no blood. Just a dream. Just a memory. He hears a knock at his front door and leaps out of bed, his wings disappear almost immediately, as Louis no longer needed their protection. The floor of his apartment is cold, the wooden flooring forcing him to quickly put some socks on. He’s dressed in plaid pyjama bottoms and a plain black t-shirt. The moonlight streamed in through his living room windows, signalling that it was still the middle of the night, a clock on the wall told him it was quarter to four in the morning. He opened the door without even thinking twice, 

“Harry?”

The boy looked at Louis, eyes wide with worry. 

“Are you all right?” 

His words were stumbled upon, he was talking too quickly. His breaths were shallow, and Louis swore he could hear his heartbeat. 

“I’m fine, why?” 

Harry had moved to enter Louis flat and was now examining the room. 

“You were screaming.” 

Harry looks at Louis, and Louis can tell that he’s serious, his eyes are dark and concerned. 

“Did I wake you up?” 

Louis looks over Harry’s torso, which he now realised is bare, letting his eyes linger on the black ink that covers him. He notes something dark on his shoulder, but with just the moonlight as his light source, he couldn’t quite tell what it was. 

“Do I look like I was awake to you?” 

Louis looks to the floor in shame. 

“Sorry it was just a dream.” 

Harry moved towards Louis, eyebrows furrowed. 

“That wasn’t just a dream. That sounded like a night terror.” 

Louis blinked hard, sleep dragging on his eyelids, and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Whatever it was, I’m exhausted. Can you please leave?” 

It came out harsher than he had intended, and it slapped Harry in the face. 

“Fine. I only came to check up on you. I won’t next time.” 

It wasn’t as harsh as Harry had wanted, but it still made Louis feel guilty. 

“There won’t be a next time.” 

He didn’t know why he kept going, maybe he was ashamed of his fear, of his memory. He didn’t like being vulnerable. Being vulnerable got him where he his. Being vulnerable got him killed. But nevertheless, he opened his front door, a gesture telling Harry to leave. Harry sighed, 

“Whatever.” 

The rock star stood in the hallway, and Louis noted the white that still outlined him, he felt his wings itch to appear and winced as he felt the tips inch out again. 

“Are you okay? You keep wincing.” 

“No offence, Harry, but we’re not friends. So I wouldn’t tell you even if I was in pain.”

“Are you in pain?” 

_Fuck. Fuck. Shit._ His wingswere still inching their way out. It was like they were reaching for Harry, that’s how it felt. 

“Pfft. No. I’m fine.” 

Louis tried so hard to play it off, but Harry was used to being around liars, and Louis was not a good one. Silence fell over the both of them, Harry tired of being lied to, and Louis just tired. The pain takes a lot out of him, as it would anyone. In the stillness, the sound of Louis shirt ripping filled the air as his wings grew bigger and bigger. 

“What was that?”

“Look, Harry, I’m really tired. Goodnight.” 

He talks quickly and rather violently slams the door in Harry’s face. He locks the door and peers through the peephole, where on the other side of the door is a bewildered and more than slightly freaked out celebrity. But eventually, he just shakes his head and goes out of Louis’ view, presumably back to his own flat. His wings immediately retract into his back, and he takes off his shirt to inspect the damage. Cursing under his breath as he held the wrecked shirt in his hands, 

“Oh for fucks sake.” 

The next morning Louis decides that today is the day he’ll actually see London, not just run through it. Dressed in more black jeans, a navy jumper and black jacket, he makes his way to the lift. He locks his door and as he turns sees his neighbour waiting by the metal doors, 

“Fuck.” 

He breathes the word under his breath and slowly walks towards him. He’s wearing cream trousers, a pastel yellow button-up shirt and a pastel pink jacket. All the colours almost hurt Louis’ eyes, 

“Did a rainbow explode in your wardrobe?” 

He tries the lighten the atmosphere, but Harry doesn’t even look to him, 

“No, but one did in the closet.” 

He tried to say it under his breath, but Louis caught it. 

“I’m sorry?” 

Harry clears his throat and finally looks at Louis, dragging his eyes from his van clad feet to messy bed-head. 

“Oh. I didn’t see you there. Did you say something?” 

There’s something behind his eyes, Louis can’t quite put his finger on it, and well, it’s more like there’s a lack of something. 

“You look nice.” 

Louis tries, but Harry just shrugs with a smirk, 

“I always look nice.” 

Louis swallows, and looks around. The lift is taking it’s sweet time, he thinks. 

“I heard one of your songs on the radio this morning.” 

Harry looks at him, suddenly he’s there, eyes lit up, curiously peering at Louis. 

“What did you think?” 

He asks it quietly, his eyes are big. 

“I like your voice.” 

“But?” 

It’s not defensive, it’s knowing. There’s always a but. 

“I’m not sure if it suits you. The sound.” 

Harry tilts his head slightly, like he’s trying to work Louis out. 

“What would you suggest?” 

Louis shrugs, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, 

“Something slower, maybe? Sadder.” 

Harry scoffs, and rolls his eyes, 

“You think sad suits me. Gee, thanks.” 

“I think vulnerability suits you.” 

That shut Harry up pretty damn quickly, and Louis was proud of the words he had chosen. There’s a sudden ding that knocks them both out of the moment, and the lift doors open. When inside, Harry continues to stare at Louis, 

“What are you doing today?” 

Louis looks at him in the mirrors, 

“Just going to explore London.” 

Harry nods, trying to raise the courage to ask Louis what he wants to. 

“Could you postpone until tomorrow?” 

“Why?” 

Louis has turned to look at Harry in the eyes now, brows furrowed. 

“Well, I’ve got a performance today and then I’m recording my new album. Would be willing to spend the day with me, and I could get your opinion on the album?” 

Louis thinks about it for a minute, 

“Want me to come to your performance too?” Harry beams, and Louis matches the smile. “I’d like a friendly face in the audience.” 

“Then I’m all yours.”

The performance was on a small stage in the centre of London, luckily it wasn’t too much of a walk from their apartment building. Louis still got to re walk the streets of the city he loved so much, that he was thankful for. He walked in the footsteps of the people who were now ghosts. It felt like walking over millions of graves at once, but also like walking through a memory. 

“So?” 

Harry had asked as they approached the stage, and twirled, cause his jacket to flare. 

“So what?” 

Louis asked, still finding it difficult to understand everything that Harry goes on about. 

“How do I look?” 

There was a playful smile on Harry’s lips and he nudged Louis gently in the ribs. 

“The colours give me a headache.” 

He talks without event thinking, almost like word vomit. He looks up at Harry and furrows his eyebrows, Harry isn’t looking at him, and he isn’t smiling anymore. 

“Oh.” 

Louis closes his eyes tightly and bites the inside of his bottom lip, realising the mistake he’s just made. 

“No, no. I mean they look great on you, y-you look great. Amazing. Beautiful. The colours really suit you.” 

The words just flow, well, less flow more fall. “Shut up, Lou.” 

Harry says, still not making eye contact with Louis, but there’s a beginning of a sweet smile, with the signature dimples forming. 

“You called me Lou.” 

He says it under his breath, more of a note to himself than a question to Harry. 

“Yeah. Is that okay?” 

Louis smiles shyly, he can feel his ears turning red, the heat making its way to his cheeks. 

“Y-yeah.” 

Harry smiles and looks to his feet, cheeks too, turning red. A boy with platinum blonde hair approaches the pair, 

“H, you ready?” 

Harry nods and looks back at Louis, 

“You okay with staying down here during the show?” 

Louis smiles wide and looks from Harry to the boy and back again, 

“Yeah. I’m excited to see you perform! Have fun up there.” 

“Mind telling me who that was?” 

Niall gestured to Louis behind them, who was looking around at the gradually increasing crowd with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets; every telltale sign that he was uncomfortable. 

“Hang on a minute.” 

Harry turned around and jogged back to the front of the stage, screams following his every step. Louis meets his eyes and furrows his brows, and Harry changes direction to the front corner, gesturing for Louis to meet him. He crouches down so his chin is at eye level with Louis, 

“What’s up, Haz?” 

Harry blushes at the nickname and meets his eyes, 

“You don’t look very comfortable over there,” he gestures with his head to the ever thickening crowd, 

“I thought it might be less crowded round this side. Just stay here, yeah?” 

Louis physically relaxes at the words, as well as the less people around. 

“Thank you.” 

Harry nods and jogs back to a frustrated Niall. “You need to keep your head on straight. No distractions.” 

Harry smirks at the thought of a possible joke as Niall gives him a warning look telling him that he’s serious, but the urge was just too strong. 

“If there’s one thing I can promise you, it’s that my head will never be on _straight_.”


	4. Chapter 4

Louis cheered and screamed and bobbed his head to every song, every note. He feels eyes on him from every angle, people in the crowd recognise him from the videos and photographs from before. Harry’s friend keeps an eye on him from backstage. There are eyes everywhere. It’s the last song, he can hear his heartbeat being to quicken, there’s too many people around. Too many eyes staring at him. It feels like before. There’s too many bodies around him, just a slip of a fist and it’s happening all over again. There’s a face in the crowd, it might just be Louis’ imagination, but it’s there. Their eyes meet across the crowd, Louis isn’t dancing anymore. His eyes are wide, his breaths sharp and quick. His back is splitting open, blood dripping down his spine, and it’s burning. Burning like it’s never burnt before. They’re ripping they’re way out of his flesh. He urges them away, he’s not in any danger. But that man, he’s still looking at Louis. There’s something evil there, something more than evil. Louis swallows, his throat is closing up, his head is both blank and running at one hundred miles per hour. His head hurts, his back hurts. The wings are at his clothes, they threaten to rip the fabric. 

_No. No, please._ His words echo in his mind, words of so long ago have been blurted out into this reality. His eyes are shut tight, begging for this nightmare to be over. The song has ended, the crowd dispersing, but Louis doesn’t realise. In his head, it’s raining and his ribs are cracking. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

The voice makes Louis jump, a hand has been placed on top of his shoulder. Louis can’t speak, his breaths are too fast, mouth too dry. 

“I-I-“ 

He tries, but his heart beat rises with every second, his wings beginning to tear the fabric of his jumper. 

“Are you having a panic attack?” 

The green eyes are full of concern, as well as some knowing. All Louis can do is nod, he doesn’t know what a panic attack is, but he’s panicking and it feels like an attack. 

“Okay. Let’s get you out of here.” 

In one swift move Harry has an arm under Louis’ arms and is dragging him further and further away from the dwindling crowd. 

They make it to a small green where they sit on a black metal bench, and Harry pushes Louis head in between his knees, holding him there. 

“Just breath. Focus on your breathing. Focus on my voice.” 

Within minutes Louis’ breathing is back to normal and his wings are long gone. 

“Here.” 

Harry hands Louis a small bottle of water, and he gulps it down quickly. 

“Thank you.” 

“What happened back there?” 

Harry is staring at Louis, waiting for a response. He knows he shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help himself, he’s drawn to Louis, and needs to know these things. Maybe he can make it better. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t.” 

Harry sighed slightly, but smiled deeply. He moved his hand to rest on the top of Louis back, and moved his thumb, stroking the material there, his forearm rested on his right shoulder blade and he felt something there. It felt like a hard bump on top of the skin. He furrowed his brows as he saw Louis had closed his eyes, head turned to the sky. What he didn’t know was that even having his touch through the jacket soothed the place where the wings sprout from, like a cooling effect. 

“Are you okay?” 

Harry wanted to lift Louis’ jacket and jumper so badly, he needed to see what it was. There was a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that he already knew. 

“Yeah,” 

Louis shook his eyes open and cleared his throat, moving his head to stare at Harry. 

“Should we go? You’ve got some recording to do.” 

Harry smiled sadly at him and nodded. They both got to their feet, hands on their thighs when they stood, to anyone else they looked like a mirror to one another, looked like the same person. Two sides of the same coin.

They walked through the streets of London, they didn’t talk, not a word. Sometimes a smile would be shared but otherwise they were in their own worlds. Louis kept going over the events in his mind, who was that man, that looked so similar to the one who took his life? Is he cursed to be forever haunted by that night? It feels like it. 

Harry was going over the songs he’d written in his head, comparing them to what Louis had said. Vulnerability. Were any of them truly vulnerable? And on that note, did any of them really reflect what Harry wanted to tell the world? Was this going to be yet another long night? 

They stopped outside the recording studio, Harry having led Louis through the hallways. The hallway had rich wine walls and a plush black carpet, inside the console room was the same colouring. It weirdly put Louis on edge, the walls too dark, carpet too soft. The recording studio itself was much more up Louis’ alley, with its cream walls and light wood. 

Sitting at the mixing console was both Dan and Niall, they were talking so wildly that they hadn’t noticed Harry or Louis, the latter of who hasn’t noticed them either, too busy with trying to settle his uneasiness. Harry quickly rapped on the door with his pointer finger knuckle. They stopped talking immediately and Dan gestured for them to enter, 

“C’mon.” 

Harry nudged Louis in the arm, who jumped out of his own thoughts. 

“Right.” 

He smiled brightly, that is, until he saw Dan and his face dropped, as did Dan’s, who cleared his throat at Harry, 

“Who’s that?” 

Harry shrugged his shoulders, keeping eye contact with his manager, 

“A friend, wanted an outside opinion on my music.” 

“Our music.” 

Dan growled, Louis swore he saw his irises turn a deep burgundy, but as soon as Louis realised, it was gone. Niall looked from Dan to Harry to Louis and back again, 

“I thought I was the outside opinion?” 

His voice was childlike and joking, trying to ease the obvious tension, bless him. Harry took the bait and chuckled at his friend, whose eyes were now wide and mouth now pouting, 

“You’re too biased.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and Niall made a gesture that said, ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ 

Dan was still staring at Harry, well, glaring would probably be the better word. Louis was looking around, oblivious to the darkening atmosphere. Really, he was trying to not look at Dan. That face, it was the same one. Maybe if he didn’t look, he wasn’t there, and then he wouldn’t remember. But the voice, the voice was the same too, it sounded like a recording. No matter what Louis did, he could hear the roars of laughter as he died, they echoed off of the walls, and Louis had never felt more like a ghost. 

“Hey. You okay?” 

Harry had approached slowly, and placed his hand on the small of Louis’ back. Louis turned to look at him, and nodded, 

“Alright, why don’t you sit here?” 

He gestured to the couch and Louis plonked himself down, 

“After every song I’m going to come back in here and ask for your opinion. Don’t hold back, yeah?” 

Louis smiled, looking from him to Niall and Dan, the latter of whom was watching him very carefully. 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me.” 

Harry nodded, looked towards the boys and made his way towards the recording studio. 

Song after song was upbeat, happy, normal. Harry looked to be in physical pain singing them, and Louis felt the exact same. Every time Harry came and asked for Louis’ opinion, Dan would drown out any negativity with his own voice, shouting directions are Harry until he just gave up. Louis looked at Harry sadly every time, but still, took out his phone and wrote down every little thing he thought. If he can’t tell Harry now, he’ll sure as hell tell him later. 

Louis could tell Harry was getting tired, he could hear his voice getting hoarse. Dan didn’t care, it was just a push forward; 

“Drink water Harry!”

“Did you get enough sleep last night, Harry?” 

“Maybe Louis is making you nervous, Harry?”

No matter what he did, it was always Harry’s fault. Even Niall was starting to worry, Louis heard hushed aggressive whispers between the two; 

“Dan, what are you doing? Enough is enough.” 

Niall’s eyebrows were furrowed, Harry looked ready to pass out in the other room. Dan’s eyes were ablaze, they told Niall to back down, 

“Don’t think you know what you’re talking about. He’s fine.” 

At which point Dan gestured to Harry just as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he slumped to the floor. 

“Oh shit!” 

They all jumped up, Louis was by Harry’s side by the time what had happened had even registered in the other two. Harry was laying on the floor, legs crumpled up underneath him, 

“Oh that looks comfortable.” 

Louis said, sarcasm dripping off of his words, hand on his hip. He was unconscious but breathing and Louis rolled his eyes, tapping him lightly on the cheek, 

“You had to overwork yourself didn’t you? C’mon, wake up!” 

Louis was trying to make light of the situation, mainly for him but for Harry’s sake too. But the concern was deep and difficult to hide, 

“Aw, are you worried about me?” 

The voice came while his eyes were still closed, and Louis tapped his cheek a little bit harder, and fell back so he was no longer kneeling, he chuckled as he did; relieved that Harry was fine, 

“Arse.” 

Harry giggled, head still on the floor, as he went to get up, Louis rushed to hold his head, 

“Carefully. Slowly.” 

They got him up to a kneeling position, 

“You okay?” 

Louis’ hand was still at the bottom of Harry’s head, fingers touching his neck.

Niall and Dan were now just waiting in the doorway, seeing that Louis had a hold on things. 

“Hey, look at me.” 

Harry’s eyes had focused on the two boys, and Louis was still concerned, Harry slowly moved his eyes back to Louis, who smiled. “What day is it?” 

“What?” 

Louis rolled his eyes, 

“I’m trying to help you. Make sure you don’t have concussion? What day is it?” 

He spoke firmly and saw Harry beginning to think, 

“November the 3rd.” 

Louis breathed a sigh of relief and slowly removed his fingers from Harry’s skin. 

“Wanna get up?” 

Louis voice was soft, comforting, it made Harry feel safe, he nodded and they both got to their feet carefully, Louis holding Harry’s hands, keeping him steady. 

“How did you know how to do that?” 

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, eyes blank, 

“Do what?”

“Ask me what day it was? Check for concussion?” 

Louis smiles fondly, remembering the days of long ago; the days in front of the fire, waiting for his mother to get home from her shift, looking after his little sisters. 

“My mum was a nurse.” 

His eyes tear up, he lets one fall down his cheek, just now realising just how much he misses his family, and how much he’s missed. 

“Was?” 

Harry was looking intently at Louis, all focus on him, his hands gently squeezed Louis’. 

“She died. A long time ago.” 

His eyes were unfocused, he couldn’t concentrate on the present, all he could see was the warm smile of his mother, the laughs that echoed of the walls as his sisters chased each other around the house. 

“I’m sorry.” 

And just like that, he was back. He shrugged, looked at the clock on the wall and gasped. 

“We need to get you home!” 

“Er, I don’t think so.” 

The voice comes from behind them, it’s dark and sinister, it made the hairs stand up at the back of Louis’ neck. That voice. That fucking voice. It haunted his nightmares, his past, and now his days. He’s so fucking sick of it. Where was his escape? Harry turns to look at Dan, Louis doesn’t. He focuses on his hands, picking at the skin surrounding his nails. 

“Dan, it’s almost four in the morning. I’m exhausted. Besides, we’ve recorded everything.” 

Dan scoffs, Harry is out of energy, and it drips off of every syllable. 

“Not to my standards, you haven’t.” 

Louis swallows the tension that’s choking him, and spins around so quick that he almost gave himself whiplash [idiot], 

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

He spat the words so viciously, he swore they were venomous. Dan’s eyes had darkened, and Louis’ had lightened, a physical embodiment of their souls. 

“He needs to stay here.” 

Their eyes are locked in a battle of wills. Louis doesn’t fully understand what’s going on; but there’s this feeling, right in the pit of his stomach, and it’s bad. It’s terrible. His wings are itching to expose themselves, Louis has to urge them to calm down. A mind of their own. Stubborn. They better not expose him. But they love Louis, they respect and love him, if he really didn’t want them, they’d listen. 

“And I say he needs sleep. He’s going home.” 

Without another word, Louis grabs Harry’s hand and pushes past Dan, grabs their coats and walks out the door, but not before turning around, Harry’s palm still firmly gripped, glaring at Dan and saying in a low voice, 

“Don’t push me, mate. I’m not scared of you anymore.” 

Dan took a step back and softened his eyes, 

“Anymore?” 

It was Harry’s voice, but neither answered. Louis just squeezed Harry’s hand and dragged him away. 

“You knew each other?” 

“Not exactly. Please don’t push it.” 

Louis is looking straight ahead, having now memorised the way back to their apartment building. It was quiet in the streets of London, it both put Louis on edge and calmed him. He wanted to stop. Just randomly, with Harry next to him, listening to their breaths sync. But instead he pushed forward, Harry still gripped in his hand. 

“Lou, please?” 

His voice was suddenly childlike, but Louis didn’t pay any attention, he was angry. Furious, even. He didn’t know why Dan had gotten to him, or how. Maybe if was that face? That face that still walked this Earth. Or that voice that cracked his bones and bruised his face. How? How could he possibly still be here? Louis was determined to find out. But Harry was scared, he didn’t know what it was that had darkened Dan’s eyes so much, or why he backed down from Louis. Harry still thought about the lump on Louis’ back that he had felt earlier, that had plagued every other thought. They got to their building and Harry (quite aggressively, if I might say so) ripped his hand out of Louis’, who looked startled and a little bit hurt, (not that he’d ever admit it, stubborn git.) 

“Who are you?” 

Louis furrowed his eyebrows are Harry and shook his head in confusion, 

“I’m Louis?” 

Harry narrowed his eyes at the boy, who still had confusion mapped on his face, but was trying to busy himself with unlocking the door, which he did quickly and gestures for Harry to enter. They approached the lift in silence and Louis pressed the button to summon it, he stepped inside when the steel doors opened and Harry faced him, still standing in the foyer, 

“I mean,  _what_ are you?” 

And the doors closed on a glaring Harry and very much startled Louis. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: this chapter includes self-harm!

Louis picked at his nails as he went up in the lift, what did Harry know? Why did he seem mad? The doors opened to the fourteenth floor and Louis stood outside the lift, just waiting for Harry. Every time the doors to the stairs open, his heart jumps a little, but then quickly goes back to biting his nails as another person nods at him and walks past. Louis smiles, trying hard to hide his disappointment, although perhaps not hard enough. He was so focused on the stairs that he hadn’t realised the lift had closed, travelled to the ground floor and back again. A tap on the shoulder told Louis that Harry was behind him. Of course it was Harry, who else could it be? 

“Excuse me mate, you’re blocking the hall.” 

It wasn’t Harry. Did you think it was Harry? Please, Louis doesn’t know Harry by simply the touch of his hand, it’s been two fucking days. Louis smiled, cheeks reddening. 

He stands in the hallway for an hour, just waiting for Harry, he needs things explained to him. And he needs to explain things. He only moved when his feet started to ache and the skin around his nails started to bleed. He sighed sadly, defeated and dragged his dead feet back to his flat. He hadn’t eaten all day, there was a black hole where his stomach should be, but he couldn’t bring himself to cook. Or even snack. Something had happened today and he had no idea what. He just went to bed, it was already the early hours of the morning, he found his comfiest pyjamas and slipped in between his sheets, within minutes his eyes are closed and delicate breaths were escaping a slightly open mouth. 

He slept the day away. He didn’t dream, for once, he didn’t dream. No haunting. No screaming. Nothing. He woke up at 11pm the next night, to a quiet knock at his door. It was barely audible but he was on the way to waking up anyway. His eyelids were just begging to flicker open as the knock came. Louis knew who it was. It had to be. The knock was too soft, too hesitant to not be Harry. He ripped his covers off of his body and placed his feet on the wooden floor, before quietly yelping and pulling them back into bed, 

“Shit it’s cold! Where are my slippers? Really, Lou? Slippers? You’re twenty-three years old!” 

He kept talking to himself, almost forgetting about the person at the door, that is until a second, more urgent knock came, and Louis rushed around putting his grey slippers on. He shook his head as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, full grey pyjamas with a navy trim and a pair of matching slippers, 

“Maybe we should stop dressing our age, yeah? You may be one hundred, but you don’t have to dress like it.” 

Finally, a third knock came, it shook the whole flat, it was desperate and loud. So loud. Louis unlocked the door without even thinking, and there stood Harry, a broken boy with red eyes and tear stained cheeks. 

“Harry.” 

The boy was broken, there was no two ways around it. He just looked at Louis, and outstretched both arms, palms to the sky. Louis furrowed his brows and shifted his gaze to his arms, which were now covered in blood, with multiple deep cuts on his arms, down to his elbows. 

“Harry?” 

His eyes had widened in shock and he was rooted to the spot, just watching the blood as it started to drip onto the hallway floor. 

“Help me.” 

And that is all Louis needed to hear to get to work. His mind went into working mode, everything that had happened was forgotten, for the moment that is. There were far more important things at stake here. Harry’s face was a ghostly white and beads of sweat had started to form on his temples and upper lip. Louis gently pulled Harry into his flat, slammed the door closed with his foot as he guided Harry into the living room and carefully sat him down on the sofa. He kicked off his slippers to avoid slipping or tripping over them and ran to his bathroom, opening up cupboards, 

“C’mon! I know you’re here somewher- ah! There you are!” 

He pulled out a first aid box from the cupboard under the sink and ran back to where Harry was sitting; he was getting whiter by the second and was breathing shallowly. 

“Harry? Harry, love?” 

His voice was calm and gentle, the way his mum would talk to him when he was sick. He was trying to hard to remember everything his mother had taught him, and everything he had been trained in before he died. He was training to be a doctor, he remembers it fondly. Maybe he should go back to that. Harry’s eyes had glazed over and was staring at Louis, but he could see that no thoughts were behind them. 

“Oh no. Oh shit.” 

Louis now had a panicked edge to his voice, but shook it off, sitting down next to Harry and opening the first aid kit, taking out bandages. He took out alcohol wipes as he realised there was too much blood to be able to see the individual wounds, 

“Harry, this is going to hurt.” 

Harry nodded, still in a daze. Louis breathes deep and wiped Harry’s arms, who winced at the touch, 

“I’m sorry!”

Once the wounds were clean, Louis worked to tightly wrap the arms, pinching the cuts together as he went. He applied as much pressure as he could, stealing a glance at Harry every once in a while. His face was still white and he was still sweating but his breathing was back to normal and he seemed to be more aware of Louis. 

Once both bandages were on, Louis packed the kit back up and sighed, looking at Harry, who refused to meet his eyes. 

“Harry? Are you okay?” 

Harry swallowed hard but still refused to meet Louis’ eyes, his gaze fixed on the floor. 

“Harry, you went into shock. I think I should call an ambulance.” 

A hand gripped Louis’ arm as he stood up and walked towards where his phone was, next to Harry. 

“No ambulances. No hospitals.” 

Louis furrowed his brows at Harry, who was now looking at him, almost as a child would. He had tears in his eyes and was obviously frightened. 

“Harry, I don’t know how much blood you lost. You need medical attention.” 

“You are my medical attention.” 

Louis rolled his eyes and moved back to sit on the sofa, taking Harry’s hands in his lap. 

“You need medical attention by a professional.” 

Harry shook his head violently, breathing quickening, 

“Please.” 

He gripped Louis hands so tight that they started to turn white. 

“Okay. Okay. No hospitals.”

Louis soothed Harry immediately, using his thumb to caress Harry’s hands. 

“You can heal me.” 

Louis shook his head, smiling softly, 

“Just because my mum was a-“ 

Harry’s chuckle cut him off and Louis furrowed his eyebrows,

“What?” 

Harry looked at Louis in the eyes and loosened his hands, taking one to run it carefully over Louis back, trying not to hurt him, but any touch, no matter how soft, still stung. 

“I know.” 

Louis swallowed hard, and his breathing went jagged, it was now his turn to go dizzy. 

“You know? Know what?” 

He tripped over the words, still very aware of Harry’s hand resting on his back, which was now soothing the burning sensation that followed the touch. He felt his wings edge to the surface as Harry continued to stroke his back. 

“Harry. Stop.” 

Louis jumped away from Harry, whose hand fell to his lap, eyes sad. 

Louis breathed slowly, trying to regain some control from his own body, but it was too late. His wings knew that Harry knew. It was Louis who was in denial. They hurt more than ever this time, Louis wanted to reach behind him and tear his skin off. He jumped up, breathing hard, 

“Louis?” 

He didn’t answer, he couldn’t speak. He was turning around, just trying to see what was making it hurt so much, bending his neck to see his back. It itched, it burned, it was more agonising than when they were growing. Louis pulled his pyjama shirt off, scratching the material from his back and over his head. He heard Harry gasp softly behind him but couldn’t care less, his skin was on fire and there was blood dripping onto the floor. He tried to stand through the pain, eyes closed tightly shut, but his knees buckled underneath him and he feel to the floor with a loud bang. Harry rushed over, kneeling on the floor next to Louis, blood soaking his grey jogging bottoms. 

“Harry no. Go away. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Louis’ voice is breathy, he winces with every word, but manages to gather enough strength to physically push Harry’s knees away from him. 

The burning sensation lights up Louis’ back and Harry gets to his feet, stepping away from him. 

“What’s happening?” 

Louis shakes his head, scraping the wood with his nails, leaving his fingers bloody, he can feel the feathers beginning to show themselves, slowly inching themselves out of his back. Louis is screaming, Harry thinks that watching him is like watching a movie, it’s almost as if everything is silent. He wishes it was silent, that he couldn’t hear the sound coming from Louis’ mouth, it makes him sick to the stomach. Louis is gasping for air, breathing hard and quick, when suddenly, as if the wings were stuck, they appear, bigger than Louis remembered. They almost hit Harry where he was standing. Harry. Oh shit.His wings were out, and they were proud. They shone in the artificial light of his flat, and pressed against the ceiling. The pain had immediately stopped, Louis wondered if that was what it was like to give birth, just instead of your back it was your- nevermind. Focus, Lou. Harry. He was standing, hands by his side, eyes wider than Louis had ever seen. 

“I was right?” 

Louis sighed, wings falling slightly, 

“You were right.” 

Harry swallows and takes a deep breath, whispering an;

“I knew it.” 

Louis’ wings fidgeted on his back, eager to get to Harry, who was obviously thinking about the next best thing to do or say, 

“Heal me.” 

Louis moved closer to Harry, eyebrows furrowed, 

“I don’t know how.” 

Harry looked at Louis’ wings which were now close enough for him to touch, and he did. Slowly, he reached an outstretched hand to the wing resting on the ceiling, and it reacted to Harry as well, moving down so Harry didn’t have to stretch. His hand touched the feathers and at first he didn’t even realise, as soft as air, he thought. The tip of the wing had rolled up a little, as if it was the head of a kitten being petted, it kept nudging Harry’s hand as if to ask him to keep stroking. 

“Every angel knows how.” 

Louis shook his head, Harry wasn’t meeting his eyes, a fair occurrence Louis noted. 

“Well, I don’t.” 

“It’s instinctive. You people can’t help but protect others. Save others.” 

The way he said it, he seemed almost bitter, almost angry. 

“Come here then.” 

Louis doesn’t know why he said it, the atmosphere had obviously shifted, but as Harry said, he just couldn’t help it. Louis tried to sit back down on the sofa but his wings were just too big, he kept moving, trying to find a position that would work. None did. 

“Guys. Please?” 

He felt like he heard his wings huff, but knew that that was impossible, but they listened to him and slowly, painlessly, retracted back into his body. 

“All that pain, just for you to tell them to go?” 

“You saw how big they were, right?” 

Both boys chuckled, and just like that, the atmosphere was back to where it should be. 

Louis sat down on the sofa, Harry by his side, they were facing each other, knees touching. Harry hesitantly gave Louis his arms, palm side up. Louis unwrapped the bandage from them, and took Harry’s hand in his, as if they were shaking hands. 

“I don’t know if this is going to hurt.”, 

Harry nodded, and Louis gripped his hand tightly, breathed deep and closed his eyes. His eyes weren’t red as they usually are when closed, inside it was a soft white, and Louis could feel it working. He opened his eyes as he saw Harry’s cuts disappearing slowly, and his veins turning white as he took the injury away. 

Louis watched Harry carefully, picking his words.

“Why did you do it?”

Harry shrugged, eyes still focused on his healing arm.

“I just wanted to feel something.”

After five minutes, one arm was completely healed of any wounds, and they moved onto the second arm, repeating the same thing. Once Harry was completely healed, Louis sighed and fell back into the couch, having had all of his energy drained by just that small gesture. 

“Thank you.” 

Louis smiled and nodded, but.. wait. 

“How did you know I could do that? Who are you?” 

Louis was sat up now, eyebrows furrowed and Harry looked to the floor before whispering, “I’m sorry.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: mentions of abuse

Louis reaches a hand out to Harry, 

“What are you sorry for?” 

Harry shakes his head, and Louis furrows his brows, looking down to where their hands touch. 

“Your hands are so cold.” 

Harry still refuses to meet his eyes, but Louis can see tears swelling. 

“Do you want a blanket? Hot drink?” 

Harry shakes his head again, sniffing,  Louis can feel something coming; something big. 

“That won’t help.” 

Louis rubs his thumb over Harry’s hands, they seem to be getting colder by the minute. 

“What do you mean?” 

Harry looks at Louis now, eyes scared and watery. 

“You can’t warm the dead.” 

Harry waits for a reaction, he closely watched Louis’ eyes. But Louis doesn’t react. He can’t. What is he supposed to say? 

“I’m sorry?” 

Harry breathes shakily, and squeezes Louis’ hands. 

“I think I should probably tell you everything.” 

Louis nodded as Harry sighed. 

Harry got up and started pacing Louis’ living room, running his hands over his face, messing his hair and then fixing it over and over again. 

“Okay, something you have to know is that I was in a bad place. My whole family was. You have to know that.” 

Louis nodded slowly, gaze never shifting from Harry. He is concerned, scared. He realises that he doesn’t actually know Harry, there’s a stranger in his home, pacing around the place, and Louis doesn’t know the first thing about him. 

“It was bad, Lou. I need you to understand that. God, why is this so hard?” 

He sighs, frustrated and drags his hands down his face. 

_ “ _ Harry, I understand.” 

He tried to be comforting but that just seems to anger Harry more, 

“NO, YOU DON’T!” 

It’s an explosion of emotion, the most Louis has seen from Harry. Louis swallowed, taken aback by Harry’s outburst, who had now sat down beside Louis, with his arms resting on his knees and head in his hands, massaging his  head, hair running through his fingers. 

“Fuck, Lou. I’m sorry.” 

Louis softens his eyes and smiles sadly, resting a hand on Harry’s knee.

“Take your time. I have all night.” 

Harry looks up at Louis, face now stained with tears and nods. 

_ “ _ Okay.”

_ It was five years ago, Harry had just finished his GCSEs, had a small group of friends, an older sister and mother who loved her children more than life itself. But she had met someone a few months ago and suddenly her children took a back seat. In the beginning it was fine, he was loving, a would-be father to Harry and his sister.  _

_ But people can only hide their real selves for so long, and soon he revealed himself. At first it was just yelling, demanding, control. Three red flags that everyone took note of, but none of which they cared about. Especially his mother, she was in love. She could change him.  _

_ Harry was out one night, just having good ol’ teenage fun, and he returned to a silent house. Which in most cases would be a good thing. A peaceful thing. But Harry knew better, every night was a screaming match, so why not this night? He opened the front door tentatively, scared for what he might find. His mother’s boyfriend’s car wasn’t in the drive like it should be, as he had somehow convinced them to let him move him.  _

_ “Mum?”  _

_ Harry called, the lights were off and it was cold in the house.  _

_ “You here?”  _

_ He just called out into the darkness, and then he heard some sniffles coming from the living room. He found his mother kneeling over, picking up pieces of what looked like a smashed vase.  _

_ “Mum? What happened?”  _

_ It was dark but he could still see the cut that ran across her cheekbone and the bruise beginning to form around her eye. She jumped at Harry’s voice but didn’t turn to look at him. _

_ “Harry, sweetie, go to bed.” _

_ It’s firm but shaky, she’s been crying but Harry does as she says. He doesn’t know why, he wants to shake her by the shoulders, but he just turns on his heel and yells a “Night!” In her general direction.  _

_ To say Harry was livid would be the understatement of the century, his heartbeat was so quick he feared he was going to have a heart attack. He hit her. He knows he did. With what? Who knows. But what Harry does know is that his mother has been crying, there’s a broken vase and she has been hit.  _

_ The next morning Harry wakes to the loudest screams he’s heard; it’s them again.  _ Here we go. _ Harry walks downstairs to find his mother and her boyfriend in the kitchen, he can’t make out a word they’re saying.  _

_ “What’s going on?”  _

_ He speaks quietly so they have to stop shouting to hear him, but instead Sam, his mother’s boyfriend, turns to him. He’s red in the face and there’s spit on the corner of his mouth, which he wipes away aggressively.  _

_ Harry doesn’t realise he’s been hit until there’s tears in his eyes and and cheek is burning red from the slap of his would-be fathers hand.  _

_ “Why would you do that to your son?!”  _

_ His mother yells, she’s crying but hasn’t moved towards Harry. Sam twists back to face Harry’s mother, fury mapped on his face,  _

_ “He’s not my fucking son!”  _

_ The words are spat at her and it takes everything in Harry not to tackle him to the floor. _

_ “Don’t you talk to her like that!”  _

_ His voice shakes, betraying him and Sam chuckles,  _

_ “Such a child.”  _

_ “Get out, Sam.”  _

_ His mother’s voice was strong, firm, the opposite of how she looked.  _

_ Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes,  _

_ “You’ll want me back, bitch. They always want me back.” _

_ He grabs his coat off of the kitchen table where it was previously thrown.  _

_ The thump of the front door slamming made Harry jump but he sighed in relief as Sam was finally out of the house.  _

_ “Mum. What the hell?”  _

_ She couldn’t look at him, she just sniffled in response and shook her head. _

_ “We’re broke, Harry.”  _

_ She had more bruises on her face, and a distinct hand print forming around her throat, and Harry felt his anger rise up again,  _

_ “What?”  _

_ “Last night. Gambling. He used my credit card.”  _

_ Harry closed his eyes shut, refusing to believe that this was happening.  _

_ “How much is gone?”  _

_ His mother breathed deeply, now looking at Harry,  _

_ “Everything. Harry, I don’t know what to do.”  _

_ Harry swallowed, thoughts running through his head. He could get a job? No, the bills will be due before he’d even get paid. He could see his clothes? No, that wouldn’t be nearly enough.There was one other thing he could sell. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, and closed his eyes, trying not to cry.  _

_ “It’s okay mum. I’ve got this.”  _

_ He looked down, almost apologising to his body. He had to do it, maybe he’d get a job too? That should work.  _

_ “Harry, what are you planning on doing?”  _

_ He smiled, as fake as can be, and nodded.  _

_ “Just promise me one thing,” _

_ She nodded and furrowed her brows,  _

_ “Don’t ask any questions. Just let me help.”  _

_ And with that he turned on his heal and returned to his room.  _

_Once showered and dressed he looked up where he should go that night. Where the best customers might be. He was not a fan of the idea of selling his body, who could be? But he was desperate. His family was desperate. _

_ That night was terrifying. He didn’t know what to wear, where to go. He just sat down at dinner, hands shaking as the minutes ticked by. And the minutes propelled him to a future he didn’t want. All he wanted - all he had ever wanted - was to write and perform music. But that doesn’t happen to just anyone. He couldn’t stop his knee from jumping under the table, causing his sister to shoot him a glare to stop. He could barely eat his dinner, but still shovelled it down, his throat getting thicker and thicker.  _

_ “Mum, I’m going out.”  _

_ She looked at him, eyes wide as she was clearing the table of any plates,  _

_ “Do I want to know where?”  _

_ “You promised not to ask questions.”  _

_ His mother opened her mouth as if to argue, but swiftly closed it again and nodded. That’s it. She gave her permission. Fuck.  _

_ It was chilly out, Harry could see his breath in the air as he breathed. He liked it, always had. He breathed out, making an ‘ahh’ sound, creating a big cloud in front of his face. He giggled at the sight, feeling like a dragon. He breathed out every step of the way, just trying to hold on to his childhood, just that little bit longer. He was looking at his shoes as he walked, noting their discolour and general age. Purple trainers. What was he thinking?  _

_ “Where are you going, sweetie?”  _

_ It was a man in a car pulling up, window down.  _

_ “Nowhere.”  _

_ He mumbled the response, barely looking at the man. His heartbeat was in his ears and there was a lump in his throat.  _

_ “What’cha doing out here, all alone, at night?”  _

_ Harry shrugged, he’d stopped walking now, trying to mentally prepare himself for what was about to come. It’s for family. It’s for mum.  _

_ “Looking for company, I guess.”  _

_ He looked at the man now, and the face matched the voice. Slimy, Harry thought.  _

_ “How much?”  _

_ Harry swallowed hard,  _

_ “Whatever you can afford.” _

_ The man smiled, it was toothy and made the hairs at the back of Harry’s neck stand up,  _

_ “Jump in, baby.”  _

_ The drive to the man’s house was pleasant enough, they made small talk, the man put his hand on Harry’s thigh. And Harry does everything in his power not to throw up all over his car.  _

_ It’s not a long drive, maybe twenty minutes? The house is small, family friendly and Harry wonders if he’s about to become a secret.  _

_ “You’ve never done this before, have you?”  _

_ The man seemed genuinely concerned, and Harry was confused, but still shook his head.  _

_ “I didn’t think so. Wait. How old are you?”  _

_ “The age of consent is sixteen.” _

_ The man rolled his eyes, seemingly frustrated,  _

_ “I didn’t ask for a law lesson. I asked how old you were.”  _

_ Harry looked to the floor in shame,  _

_ “Oh my god, you’re sixteen, aren’t you?”  _

_ Harry nodded, tears in his eyes.  _

_ “There’s no way in hell I’m fucking a literal child. Go home, kid.”  _

_ Harry looked at him and was about to plead when the man started talking again,  _

_ “What’s happened to put you in this situation?”  _

_ Harry bites his lip, afraid to air his dirty laundry to the world. Or y’know, a stranger!  _

_ “My mum’s in some trouble, well, a lot of trouble and I couldn’t think of any other way to help.”  _

_ The man nodded, genuinely interested in what Harry was saying, and for the first time in, well, a long time, Harry felt safe.  _

_ “I think I know someone who could help.”  _

_ Harry’s eyes widen at the words, glittering with the chance of another day with his childhood still intact.  _

_ “Really?”  _

_ It came out more childish than Harry would have liked, all high-pitched and squeaky. The man nodded and gestures for Harry to follow him into his house, Harry hesitated and the man noticed.  _

_ “I’m not going to touch you.”  _

_ And he meant it, so Harry nodded and followed him.  _

_ The inside of the house was cleaner than Harry had expected, but much cleaner than one with a family would have.  _

_ “No kids?”  _

_ The words are out before Harry has time to process them and suddenly starts scrambling to make up for his nosiness.  _

_ “I-er-I I’m sorry.”  _

_ The man chuckles as he clicks the lights on,  _

_ “Don’t worry! I did have kids once, yeah. All gone now.”  _

_ Harry furrows his brows and looks to the floor,  _

_ “Hey, don’t worry kid. I’m not cut out for being a dad. All for the best.”  _

_ Harry could see the hurt behind his eyes and the tears on the top of his tongue. He was cut out for being a dad, and it was not all for the best. It made Harry’s heart hurt.  _

_ “Here, water?”  _

_ They had walked the length of the house and arrived in a pristine looking kitchen, all marble countertops and white cupboards, it glistened. At the end of an outreached hand was a crystal tumbler containing a clear liquid, Harry took it immediately, realising just how dry his throat was, gulping the water down.  _

_ “Thank you.”  _

_ The man smiled and stood, just watching Harry, who furrowed his eyebrows at the staring. Suddenly, Harry’s world started to blur, and he gripped the countertop to stop himself from falling.  _

_ “I’m sorry. I’m going to help you.”  _

_ He moved to Harry and caught him just as his grip slid, world turning black.  _

_ Harry wakes up to a pressure of his face and his legs thrashing. He can’t open his eyes but it feels like a... pillow?  _ Oh. Oh no. Oh shit! Fuck! He’s killing me? Should I just let it happen? No, Harry.  _ But it’s too late, he woke up too late, and soon there’s a peaceful feeling overcoming him and a voice saying; _

_ “Another one? Really, John?”  _

_ Before his world fades to black once again.  _

_ Harry awoke again from a tapping on the face,  _

_ “C’mon. Wake up.”  _

_ Standing above him was smoke in the shape of a man, and gradually his features became more readable; a pair of black eyes, a velvet suit the colour of embers, and horns that reached to the sky.  _

_ “There he is! Welcome back to the world of the living!”  _

_ His voice was a higher pitch than you’d expect, sounding more like an angel than y’know, Satan. _

_ “What the fuck?”  _

_ Were Harry’s first words to the men.  _

_ “Language!”  _

_ The smoke tutted, Harry’s eyes were wide and he kept blinking hard.  _

_ “This isn’t happening.”  _

_ “Au contraire mon frere.”  _

_ Harry looks at the man from before,  _

_ “You killed me!”  _

_ He’s sat up by now and his pointing his finger at the man who almost bought his body, until.. Satan? tapped his finger,  _

_ “We don’t point fingers, Harry. That’s rude. Who raised you?” _

_ Harry was so taken aback he couldn’t form a thought, let alone a word.  _

_ “Are you the devil?”  _

_ The smoke man shook his head and sat down,  _

_ “That’s what you people call me, quite rude if you ask me. But my friends call me Sat. How you doing?”  _

_ He reached a hand out which Harry shook tentatively.  _

_ “I’m.. confused. How am I alive? Am I dead?”  _

_ Sat considered it for a moment,  _

_ “Well, yes and no. You see, John here,”  _

_ He claps the man on the back,  _

_ “Sold his soul to me years back for a family and as you can see,”  _

_ He gestured to the room bare of any toys,  _

_ “That fell through, meaning that he became a demon of mine who’s job it is to find desperate people who will sell their soul to me. I consider myself a bit of a collector, Harry.”  _

_ He nudged Harry in the ribcage gently.  _

_ “So I’m here because you want my soul?”  _

_ Sat rolled his eyes, sighing.  _

_ “Well don’t make it sound so morbid! It’s a two-way deal. You get something too. And believe it or not, I know what you want.”  _

_ “And if I don’t want to?”  _

_ Sat shrugged his shoulders and pouted,  _

_ “Then you die. Dead. It’s over.”  _

_ “And if I accept? Will I be living again?”  _

_ He shook his head,  _

_ “No. Either way, you will never have a heartbeat, but with me, you will have all your dreams come true. Really, it’s a small price to pay.” _

_ “And what do you know of my dreams?”  _

_ “I know you see yourself on stage in front of millions, singing songs only you have written. A future where you can look after your family and never worry again.”  _

_ Harry swallows hard, thinking about it.  _

_ “What if I don’t want it afterwards?”  _

_ Sat raised his eyebrows and scoffed, _

_ “If you fail, and I mean that as if you don’t hold up your end of the deal, which in your case would be to either let your fame wither or to decide you no longer want it, then you become like John here, you become my demon and you will find souls for me.”  _

_ “And when I die?”  _

_ “You’re mine. But, if you hold up your end of the deal to the best of your ability, there will be a throne in hell waiting for you. No torture. No typical hell stuff. Just a rather warm afterlife.”  _

_ Harry breathes hard, really there’s no choice.  _

_ “Where do I sign?”  _


	7. Chapter 7

“You accepted the deal, didn’t you?” 

Harry drops his head and nods, tears finally flowing. 

“I had to Lou, for my family. For me.” 

Louis nods, placing a hand on Harry’s knee, 

“Hey, I’m not judging you. I’d have done the same thing. So what happened next?” 

Harry breathed deeply, 

“I applied to X factor- a singing competition,” 

he corrected himself when he saw Louis confusion, 

“and I won. I won a contract to sing! I was so happy.” 

Louis furrowed his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes slightly, 

“Was?” 

Harry breathed shakily, 

“Yeah. It’s become a chore, I guess.” 

Louis rubs his thumb over Harry’s knee again, empathy mapped on his features. 

“Talk to me.” 

Harry shakes his head, wipes his nose and sighs. 

“I can’t. I mean, I’m not allowed.” 

Louis furrows his eyebrows again and moves his hands to hold Harry’s. 

“Who said so?” 

Harry looks at Louis, there’s something in his eyes and Louis understands. Dan. 

“It’s getting late, Lou.” 

He looks to the time on his phone and realises it’s almost three in the morning. 

“You can stay here, if you want.” 

Harry smiles but shakes his head, standing. 

“Thanks, but I know where to find you. I’m only down the hall.” 

Louis nods and walks him to the door, where Harry turns to face him, and before Louis knows what is happening, Harry has wrapped two tight arms around his shoulders and pressed his face into his collarbone. Louis is startled but cuddles Harry back nonetheless, wrapping his arms around Harry’s torso. They stood like that for maybe a minute, heartbeats syncing. 

“Will you come back to the recording studio with me tomorrow?” 

Harry mumbled into Louis’ shoulder, who nodded, 

“Of course.” 

They pulled apart and Louis could see the tears threatening to fall from Harry’s eyes. 

“Tomorrow then.” 

And with that Harry opened the door and walked down the hall, Louis decided to pop his head out to watch him go home, just to make sure he got there safely. He did and Louis realised he lived around five doors down, Harry turned and waved; oh what was that? Was that.. butterflies? _Oh. Shit_.

Louis laid in his bed, hand on his stomach, staring at the ceiling. His wings had wrapped themselves around him, it was somehow a painless experience for them to show themselves. Was he sick? That’s got to be the only explanation. Butterflies? Louis? _I think the fuck not_. He stayed still, baffled, until the sunrise when he decided he wasn’t going to sleep so he might as well get ready for the day. Or perhaps lack of, considering he’ll just be sitting in the recording studio again. His wings disappeared just as painlessly as they appeared. There was something in the pit of his stomach that told him everything he needed to know. Harry was the person he was supposed to guard. _Oh!_ Louis hit his forehead with the palm of his hand,

“I’ve been such an idiot!” 

Yes. Yes you have, but I won’t tell him that. 

“The outline? _Louis_.” 

He’s talking to himself in the mirror, feeling like the blindest person in the word. 

“Is that why you two hurt so much last night? Because of who he is to us? And now you’ve revealed yourselves, you’re happy?” 

He’s talking over his shoulder to the cuts, still unhealed, on his back. 

After the shower Louis feels dazed, almost dizzy from his realisation. He was dressed in a grey long-sleeved shirt, black jeans and vans, leaving his hair messy. Soon there was a knock at the door and Louis pocketed his phone, wallet and keys. 

“Hey, Harry!” 

He smiles brightly after opening his door, feeling the butterflies again. Harry is dressed in black jeans, a purple jumper and denim jacket with a fur collar. 

“Ready?” 

Louis nods and goes to leave but is stopped by a hand on his stomach, 

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” 

Louis head is blank, he can’t think with Harry’s hand on him. 

“Er-well-I- I’ll be fine.” 

Harry shrugged and moved his hand, letting Louis lock his door. Louis could barely look at Harry in the lift,blushing every time their eyes met.

“What did you think of yesterday’s songs?” 

Louis looked at Harry, startled out his thoughts. 

“What?” 

Harry furrowed his brows, 

“Yesterday? I saw you taking notes on your phone, can I see them?” 

Louis breathed and smiled, reaching into his pocket for his phone and handing it to Harry. 

“Of course!” 

Harry smiled and unlocked the phone, 

“You know, you should really put a password on this.” 

Louis looked to the floor, moving his feet as Harry stared at him, 

“I don’t know how.” 

He could feel the blush starting at his ears and moving to his cheeks. Harry giggled and nudged him in his ribs, until Louis raised his head and Harry realised he was serious. 

“Wait. When did you die?” 

Louis smiled sadly, trying to stop the trauma from haunting him again, 

“1914.” 

Harry gasped, eyes wide. 

“So you don’t know about the wars?” 

Louis froze, WARS? Plural? 

“What wars? There’s been wars?” 

Harry looked to the floor, releasing he’s opened a can of worms. 

“History lesson tonight?” 

Louis chuckled, smiling brightly. 

“Deal.” 

The rest of the lift ride was in silence, with Harry reading Louis’ notes. He kept making little noises, Louis didn’t know if they were angry noises or not. They weren’t. They were impressed noises. They walked out of the lift when it reached the ground floor, 

“Wow, you really know your shit, don’t ya?” 

Louis shook his head, blush deepening, and taking his phone back from Harry’s outstretched hand. 

“Not really. But I know what suits you. And it isn’t that.” 

Harry raised his eyebrows, playful. 

“Oh you do, do you?” 

Louis shyed away at Harry’s words, 

“Oh, well I don’t know you know you.” 

Harry furrowed his brows and placed a hand on Louis’ back, guiding his through to the street. 

“I’m just joking.” 

Louis smiles, though it’s still guarded. 

The air outside is cold, Harry can see his breath and it takes him back to that night. He notices Louis shivering almost immediately and without a second thought, shrugs his jacket off and offering it to Louis, who is rubbing his arms and regretting every decision he’s ever made. He sees Harry offering him his coat and shakes his head, 

“No, Harry, then you’ll get cold!” 

Harry rolls his eyes and forcibly puts the jacket on Louis, 

“I dressed for the weather.”

He gestures to his purple jumper which is a lot thicker than Louis initially thought, and snuggles into the fur collar, the denim falling off of his tiny frame. 

“Thank you.” 

Harry smiles and rolls his eyes playfully, throwing an arm around Louis shoulders. Louis feels himself stop breathing and prays that Harry didn’t notice. He did. 

They walked through the streets of London, Harry still with his his arm around Louis. People stared as they made their way, but Harry ignored them. 

“Harry, people are looking.” 

The boy smirked at Louis and shrugged, but it still scared Louis. This world was new to him, but he knew the reactions of homophobes. And they were beginning to get closer, 

“Harry, please take your arm off of me.” 

It was said quietly but firmly. Harry furrows his brows at Louis and slowly removes his arm. 

“What’s wrong, Lou?”

“I told you people were staring.” 

He didn’t mean to snap at Harry, but it was coming back; the shouts from the distance, the names they called him, the thundering footsteps that chased his dreams. Harry looks around at the people still staring, and then back at Louis, whose face has gone a stark white and eyes had glazed over. 

“Let’s go.” 

Harry places a hand delicately on Louis back and pushes him forward, making his feet move. Louis can feel himself going dizzy again, his breath quickening. Harry finds a quiet area and forces Louis to bend so his head is close to the ground. 

“Breathe, Lou, breathe. Count with me; in, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four and hold, two, three, four.” 

Louis breathed with Harry’s counting and soon he wasn’t dizzy. He gently stood up and sighed, resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder for stability. 

“Thank you.” 

Harry shook his head and smiled sadly, 

“How are you doing?” 

Louis swallowed and breathed deeply. 

“I’m okay. Thanks to you.” 

They continued on their way to the recording studio, Harry was itching to ask the question. He felt like he had shown Louis his soul (or lack thereof) to Louis and had received nothing in return. Nothing that alludes to who Louis really is, or was. 

“What happened to you?” 

They were stood outside the building when Harry turned to Louis, stopping them both dead in their tracks. 

“Harry, please.” 

It was a desperately sad sound that escaped Louis lips, and his eyes pleaded with Harry. 

“No I’m sorry, I told you everything. But I know nothing about you.” 

Louis closed his eyes tightly and sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

“Alright. Tonight? You give me a history lesson, and I’ll give you one.” 

Harry smiled and nodded, opening the door and gesturing for Louis to go through first. 

“Age before beauty.” 

Louis scoffed, 

“And pearls before swine.” 

Louis floated down the hallway, leaving Harry standing baffled in the doorway. 

“I need to up my game.” 

It was said under his breath but Louis still caught it, crying a 

“True!” 

from the end of the hallway. Harry shook his head, but couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his lips. And butterflies from forming in his stoma- _wait. Oh. Haha. Crap_.

Louis waited outside the console room for Harry, who took a suspiciously long time to catch up. 

“Where the hell have you been?” 

“Oh, I-er, I went to the toilet.” 

No he didn’t, he had been standing in the doorway stunned by what was happening.

“Right. Ready?” 

Harry nodded and they entered to find Dan and Niall sitting exactly where they sat before, 

“Deja vu, much? Do you guys sleep here?” 

Niall shook his head, looking disappointed in Harry and Dan’s eyes were again, blazed with fury. 

“You’re late.” 

“Sorry! My fault! Had a bit of a problem outside!” 

Louis tried to be cheerful, swallowing the fear that was carefully climbing up his throat. 

“Why are you here?” 

“Because I need him here. I need you less. I don’t question your authority, so don’t question mine.” 

And with that, Dan shut up, Niall smirked and Louis sat down, taking out his phone. 

“Oh you don’t need to take notes on your phone today. Dan, would you mind sitting on the couch today?” 

Niall dropped his smirk and replaced with an incredible shocked pikachu impression. Louis’ eyes were wide and warning Harry not to do this. It’s so stupid. 

Dan smiled, but his eyes glared as he grit his teeth. 

“Of course.” 

Harry grabbed the chair as it spinner when Dan stood, and tapped it. 

“C’mon, Lou.” 

“Heh. Harry, no. I’m not a professional.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and tapped the chair again, 

“Don’t worry, Niall here knows what he’s doing.” 

Louis gave up his fight and got up from the couch, refusing to meet Dan’s accusing eyes. 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

He whispers through gritted teeth as Louis walks by. 

When Louis takes the seat, Harry smiles a smile that makes Louis heart beat fast. It does a little dance in his chest. 

“I’ve written a new song, tell me what you think. Don’t hold back.” 

Louis smiles brightly, feeling at home behind the console, 

“I’ll do my worst.” 

Harry could hear Niall’s voice explaining the buttons and sliders as he entered the recording room. 

“Ready?” 

Louis nodded behind the glass, 

“Ready. Good Luck.” 

Harry rolled his eyes playfully and breathed deeply, beginning to sing,

“Open up your eyes and shut your mouth...” 

Harry stood looking expectantly at Louis and Niall, 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” 

Harry beamed brightly at the words and Louis swore he could hear a light giggle follow. 

“H, that was something else! Better than that bubblegum pop shite!” 

Harry blushed a deep red and breathed shakily, 

“It’s all thanks to Louis.” 

They heard Dan scoff behind them and Niall and a Louis turned, 

“Problem?” 

Niall was the one to ask, having already been won over by Louis.

“What? Is Louis your angel?” 

It was sarcastic and just plain nasty, with a pair of rolling eyes following. 

“What?”

“What?” 

Both Harry and Louis spluttered which caused Dan just to smirk, 

“Thought so.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Harry and Louis continued to stutter, swallowing hard. Niall looked between the three of them, utterly bewildered, 

“Everything alright, lads?” 

Harry breathed shakily, glaring at Dan and nodded at Niall through the glass. 

“Fine. Let’s keep going.” 

Louis nodded and turned back to watch Harry, listening to Niall still explaining the console in front of them, but he could feel eyes burning into the back of his skull. 

Harry went back to singing the songs he was supposed to record, and it seriously took everything in Louis not to throw up over Niall, 

“What is this shit?” 

Louis leaned close to Niall, whispering in his ear, he just shrugged in response, 

“It’s all he’s ever sung. I think you’re changing that though.” 

Niall winked at Louis, whose cheeks burned. Harry recorded a total of two pop-y songs before huffing and throwing his earphones in frustration, letting them hang by their cable.

“What the fuck am I doing?” 

“Haz, you alright?” 

Harry pulled a hand through his shoulder length curls and sighed, 

“No, Ni. I’m not. This is such crap I’m singing.” 

Niall looked to the ground, sneaking a glance at Dan behind them. He was pursuing his lips with his arms crossed on his chest. 

“I’m coming back in, we’re writing something new.” 

Niall whipped his head back up, 

“It’s too late, mate! Everything’s recorded! It’s due to come out in two weeks!” 

Harry shrugs, face distorted into something definitely not happy. Lack of fucks? Probably.

“It’s my album. It’ll come out when I want it to,” 

he walks through the door and stares at Dan, 

“Got it?” 

The door slams back into its frame behind Harry, making everyone except him jump. Dan grit his teeth and nods slowly at Harry, there was a weird tension that Louis could almost see. Dan looked like he was on fire. Harry pulled out another chair and sat beside Louis, grabbing a pad and pen from a nearby shelf, 

“Any ideas?”

Louis turned to Harry, eyes wide, 

“I’m sorry?” 

Harry rolled his eyes and gestured to the writing pad in his lap.

“C’mon. I need ideas.” 

Louis was still in shock, 

“I can’t write songs, Harry.” 

The boy chuckled and nudges Louis in the ribcage, the sound beat the air out of Louis, and everything seemed to be in slow motion. Harry’s laugh shined through the drabness of the room, his laugh bounced off of the wall and made the hair on the back of Louis’ neck stand up. Eventually Niall popped up with an idea and it was ran with. Apparently, the idea came from something he read once; where a guy was told he couldn’t love the one he wanted, and was pressured into dating every girl possible just to hide the fact that he was gay. 

Harry stopped laughing. Dan smirked. Niall coughed to clear the silence, and Louis started talking absolute nonsense. 

“So, Haz. What do you think? I think it sounds good. Why don’t you go record it? Eh? Yeah?” 

Harry looked at Louis, tears in his eyes, and Louis got it. Just like that. 

“Okay.” 

It was quiet, and Louis thought it was maybe deliberate so that no one would hear his voice wobble. But it did, and it took everything in Louis not to fling himself over Harry. 

The song was beautiful, it really was. 

“You are amazing!” 

Louis whispered to Niall, who just giggled and flung an arm around Louis. 

“Mate, without you, I think a shitty album might already have been on the shelves!” 

Louis giggled back and subtly snuggled into Niall, he smelled like a mixture of musk and cherry blossom, with a hind of vanilla. Like a very manly baby. _Accurate_ , Louis thought. Niall wrapped his arm tighter around Louis until they were actually cuddling, it felt nice, to be touched with no other intent behind it. Just a friendly hug. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Louis didn’t realise he had been crying until Niall pulled away to look at him, and he rubbed his nose, sniffling. 

“Yeah, sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve been hugged like that.” 

The words just slipped out, he hadn’t meant to be that vulnerable to Niall, he didn’t want to make it weird. 

“Oh, well, come back here then.” 

Niall raised his arm, Louis smiled and happily leant back into Niall, who squeezed the angel. Harry caught sight of them through the window and couldn’t keep the smile from forming, it added something to the song, you could hear Harry smile. It completely changed it. And it made it suddenly feel like their song, it was as much Harry’s as it was Louis’ and Nialls. It was just them in that studio, all smiling. No Dan, no anger, no past. Just them. 

“I hate it.” 

Louis and Niall pulled apart and spun around at lightning speed, 

“What did you just say?” 

It was Louis talking, he didn’t expect to, but this man just dragged him out of finally feeling at home.

“I thought we told you to sit down and shut up? Was that too difficult for you?” 

Louis tongue was sharp, and it took both Niall and Harry by surprise, the latter of who had now entered the console room again. Dan looked taken aback for a second, but quickly regained his composure. 

“What makes you think you can talk to me like that?” 

Dan’s raised an eyebrow but Louis scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest, 

“What makes you think I can’t?” 

Louis was smug, it’d been so long since he’d spoken his mind. Too long, in fact.Harry was looking at Louis, a playfully proud smile on his lips, and Niall noticed, as he would, and smirked at the two. Louis opened his mouth again, 

“Either you stay here and keep your mouth shut, or you leave. Your choice.” 

Dan looked to Harry, 

“Are you going to let him talk to me like this?” 

Louis saw a shadow begin to grow from Dan’s back, it was blacker than a normal shadow and his heart immediately starts to beat faster. It’s a dark being, it’s alive, whatever alive means in this situation. And it’s looking at Louis, it wants to reach into his soul but before Louis fully understands what he’s seeing - what only _he_ is seeing - Harry scoffs, 

“What he said.” 

And gestures to Louis with his head. 

“Your choice.” 

Dan gets up, grabs his jacket and shuffles out the door in one swift motion, leaving the three boys alone. 

“Did anybody else see that?” 

“See what? You standing up to that prick? Hell yeah!” 

Louis looked at Niall, serious. 

“You really didn’t see it?” 

“What did you see, Lou?” 

It was Harry’s voice this time, and it seemed to be a warning. It told Louis to stop speaking. It told Louis that Harry knew something, he knew something terrible. 

“Nothing.”

“Hey! Have you guys seen this?” 

Niall snapped them out of their unspoken conversation, holding his phone in his hand, 

“What is it?” 

They moved to look at the phone together, Louis could feel Harry’s breath on the back of his neck, and it made his throat dry. Niall had his twitter up and every single tweet was about Louis. Who was he? Why were they so close? Where did he come from? What’s his name? 

“Oh.”

Louis looked from Harry to Niall to the phone and back again. 

“What does that mean?” 

Harry walked away, running a frustrated hand through his hair, starting to pace, while Niall rubbed Louis’ back gently. 

“I didn’t think about that. I’m so sorry Lou.” 

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” 

Louis’ eyebrows were furrowed and he kept looking between Harry and Niall, 

“Will someone, please, tell me what’s going on?!” 

“People know.” 

Harry dragged a hand down his face and plopped down on the sofa, head in hands. 

“Niall?” 

Louis turned to the blonde boy next to him, who sighed and gestures for Louis to sit down again. 

“People know about you, Lou. They know you’re someone close to Harry, so now they’re going to try and find out everything they can. There’s going to be articles about you. From this moment forward, you won’t have any privacy.” 

Louis breathed shakily and Niall, noticing, placed an arm delicately around him. 

“What happens now?” 

“That’s up to you.” 

It’s Harry’s voice, he seems to have calmed down slightly, and was now staring the two of them. His eyes are dark, sad. Louis can see it; he’s lost too many people because of his lifestyle. 

“You can stay and be in the public eye, or you can disappear and I’ll never see you again. I’ll move if I have to.” 

Harry thinks Louis is going to leave, it’s obvious. He’s already made plans in his mind of how he’d avoid Louis. 

“You’re not going anywhere, Haz. And neither am I,” 

Harry looks up, eyes hopeful. They sparkle in the dullness of the room, sending sunspots dancing, 

“Be honest, if I left now, would I even be left alone?” 

Niall shrugs, 

“I guess eventually, sure.” 

“But right now?” 

“Right now you’re in the public eye for good. They won’t easily forget you.” 

“Then that settles it, then. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” 

Harry tries to hide his smile, but his lips can’t help but form the crescent, deep dimples forming on his cheeks. 

“Thank you.”

He whispered it, but the noise spread shivers though his body. 

“Right,” 

Harry says, placing his hands on his knees, 

“Time to get to work boys. I have two songs, I need a whole album. Let’s get to it.” 

Six hours later and Niall was laying on the sofa, writing pad and pen resting on his stomach, eyes closing slowly. Louis was sitting at the console next to Harry, bouncing ideas off of one another. Both looking somewhat insane, with messy hair that had had a hand run through it one too many times and scribbles on their pads. Ink covering their hands. 

“So how many does that make? Four?” 

“Can’t you count?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Harry.” 

“Yes, that makes four.” 

“Good can we go home now?” 

Harry and Louis had both turned to where the voice originated, 

“Niall! It’s four songs! It’s not exactly an album!” 

Niall turns on his side, causing his pad and pen to fall the the floor, he placed a hand under his head, like a kind of pillow. 

“Haz, we’ve been at this for hours! Let’s us sleep!” 

“Like you need any sleep! While Louis and I were working you were napping!” 

Niall giggles and shrugs, 

“But you were doing such a good job of it! And I’m such a beautiful sleeper.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and looks to Louis, 

“It is getting late. You tired?” 

Louis shrugs, but realises the time is 7pm, 

“Not tired but I think it’s too late to keep going, besides,” 

Louis lowers his voice and leans towards Harry, 

“you promised me a history lesson.” 

Harry chuckled and nodded. 

“Alright. Session over.” 

Louis and Harry got to their feet, once again being each other’s mirror. Niall, now sitting up, a cheeky smile playing on his lips, looks between the two, 

“Sooooo? You two fucking or what?” 

Harry and Louis stop dead in their tracks, eyes wide; like deer caught in a headlight. 

“Well?”

Louis spluttered while Harry stayed silent, still very much in shock. He swallowed hard before answering Niall’s question. 

“We’re just friends, Ni.” 

Niall chuckled at Harry’s words, 

“Yeah, that’s what they all say. And then they’re dating. Let me know when that happens, until then.” 

He put two fingers to his forehead and saluted, flung his jacket over his shoulder and walked out of the door, swaying his hips. 

“That man should play James Bond.” 

Louis giggled, and looked at Harry, 

“Who’s James Bond?” 

Harry chuckled, rolled his eyes and threw an arm around Louis, leading him out the door, 

“This is about to be one hell of a history lesson.” 

They make their way back to their apartment building, the sky is dark and the air cold. Harry looks to the navy above, 

“I’m hoping it snows this year.” 

Louis followed his eyes and too, looked at the sky. 

“You like snow then?” 

Harry smiles and closed his eyes, letting the cold air burn his nose, 

“Love it.” 

Louis watched Harry silently, almost praying for a snowflake to land on the top of his nose. Harry deserved snow. So snow Harry will get.

“C’mon, it’s getting cold.” 

Harry grabs Louis’ hand and starts walking again. Louis makes a mental note to ask someone - preferably Liam or Niall - on whether artificial snow is a thing and how on Earth do you make it. Harry will have his snow. 

They walk briskly through the cold air, cheeks red, noses sore. They get back to their apartment building and take the lift up, 

“Right, you go home and put some pjs on, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Harry is giddy with excitement and it makes Louis smile widely, 

“Where will you be? And why pjs?” 

“I’m going back to mine to get changed and to get all the stuff we’ll need for tonight! And pyjamas because we might as well be comfy! We’re in for a long night!” 

Louis rolls his eyes, smile still big, 

“Harry,” 

It’s a playful warning but still has a serious edge to it, 

“It’s already late! Do you really want to stay up?” 

Harry shrugs, the energy light and happy, 

“Yeah! I’ve already messaged Dan to tell him I won’t be in tomorrow so we can stay up as late as we need! Oh! Why don’t we order some food? And I could stay round yours tonight? Eh?” 

Harry is practically jumping with excitement and Louis can’t help but get excited too, 

“Yeah! Okay! I’ll see you in a bit!” 

The lift dings and both boys walk out, Harry running down the hall to his flat and Louis entering his to rush around tidying, getting changed and anything else he could possible need to do to prepare for the night ahead. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: extreme homophobia 
> 
> also, i refuse to write the f slur, that’s why the whole word isn’t written

A knock comes a few moments later once Louis is changed into navy plaid pyjamas, 

“Still dressed like a grandpa, are we?” 

He mutters to himself as he rushes to the door, where standing in the hallway is Harry carrying a pile of books, movies and snacks so high that only the top of his curls is visible.

“I’m in for one hell of a night, aren’t I?” 

Louis stands to the side as Harry wobbles his way in, dropping his treasures on the sofa. 

“One hell of a night.” 

Harry spins around to face Louis, huge smile plastered on his face. He’s dressed in grey joggers and a white shirt, he drags his eyes down Louis’ body, smiling wider, as if that’s possible. 

“Dressing your age?” 

“Fuck off.” 

And he closes the door with a click, 

“Should I order food now?” 

Harry has turned back around and is arranging his items into chronological order, _Nerd_ Louis thinks, with a fond smile. 

“Yeah go on then. What do you fancy?” 

“Well, what can I have?” 

Harry turns back around to see that Louis is, in fact serious. 

“Oh right! Er, well there’s, Chinese, Indian, Pizza?” 

Louis breathes shakily, scared by the choices, 

“Can you choose?” 

Harry smiles and nods, 

“I’m going to go with Pizza. It’s simple.” 

Louis leans over as Harry makes the order on his laptop, 

“What do you want?” 

“Fuck if I know!” 

Harry giggles and shakes his head, 

“Alright, I’ll read out ingredients and you tell me if you like them, yeah?” 

Louis nods, and they order their pizzas, as well as brownies and garlic bread. It’s going to be a long night after all. 

Once the pizza was ordered, Harry ushered Louis to the couch where his stuff was in three distinct piles; movies, books, and snacks. A lot of snacks. The movies and books both started from most recent at the bottom, to oldest at the top. 

“Do you want me to go first?” 

Louis breathed deeply and shook his head, 

“I’ll tell you my story and then you can start from when I-“ 

He trails off and Harry looks to the floor, then moving to the couch where he puts each pile on the floor. Louis sits and Harry follows suit, sitting so close that their knees touch, and looks intently at Louis. 

“Alright. Here goes.” 

_ It was 1912, Louis was sixteen, just figuring himself out. He had a huge family, and they lived comfortably. Four younger sisters who all looked up to him, a mother who was a nurse working as hard as she could and a father who owned land. Perhaps they were more than comfortable, although Louis would never admit it. He didn’t have many friends, how could he? He was working towards a place at Oxford, his father insisted. He didn’t have time for friends, but his dresser, Edward, was his friend. His one real friend.  _

_ He had bright green eyes and hair chopped short, although Louis could tell it had a slight curl to it. Louis looked forward to his dressings, it was the only time he felt truly free. They would discuss current events,  _

_ “Did you hear about the titanic?”  _

_ Edward asked him one evening as he was getting ready for dinner,  _

_ “Yes, what a tragedy! All those people.”  _

_ Edward looked heartbroken, he could barely keep his eyes dry,  _

_ “You didn’t have any family-“  _

_ Before Louis could finish his question Edward nodded, and Louis gasped, spinning around on his heal to face the now red eyed Edward.  _

_ “Oh my!”  _

_ Louis placed his hands on Edwards cheeks, wiping tears as he did so,  _

_ “Who?”  _

_ “My older brother and little sister, as well as my Aunt and Uncle. It was a family trip.”  _

_ Louis placed his forehead on Edwards,  _

_ “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”  _

_ The boy rested his head back on Louis, breathing shallow,  _

_ “Their funeral is next week, if I could just have the morning off?”  _

_ “You can have the whole day off, fully paid. Take your time to mourn, please.”  _

_ Edward sighed, more tears falling.  _

_ “Thank you, sir.” _

_ “I’m not your sir. I’m Louis,”  _

_ He brought his arms around Edward and embraced him into a tight cuddle,  _

“ _Your Louis.”_

_ He added under his breath, not knowing that Edward heard, and his heart too, skipped a beat.  _

_ The day of the funeral, Louis decided to wear all black, all day. If Edward is mourning then so is he.  _

_ The day went by at a snails pace, the house seemed empty without Edward, and Louis had nothing and no one to look forward to. That is, until Louis was in bed, reading, and his bedroom door burst open, making him jump,  _

_ “What the fuck?!”  _

_ Edward looked at Louis from the other side of the room, his eyes were red, raw and puffy, his face tear stained and patchy.  _

_ “Ed? What’s wrong?”  _

“ _I needed to see you.”_

_ He sniffles, breathing heavily. Louis rips the covers off and moves towards the broken boy infront of him, arms outstretched,  _

_ “Come here.”  _

_ Edward flung himself into Louis’ arms, and they embraced for a few minutes, Edward sobbing into Louis’ chest.  _

“ _Do you want to stay with me tonight?”_

_Edward lifted his head to look at Louis, wet eyelashes blinking against his cheekbones,_

_“Can I? I really don’t want to be alone tonight.”_

_ Louis smiles softly, sadly and nods.  _

_ “Of course. I don’t want you to be alone tonight.”  _

_ Edward smiles brightly, and let’s go of Louis,  _

_ “Should I go and get some pyjamas?”  _

_ Louis furrowed his eyebrows and moved towards his set of draws,  _

_ “No, you can borrow some of mine, here.”  _

_ He pulls out a pair of red silk pyjamas and hands them to Edward,  _

_ “You’re welcome to get changed in the bathroom.”  _

_ Louis gestures to a door that adjoins to his en-suite. Edward nods, smiles and walks through the door. Louis gets back in bed, and waits for Edward, who appears quickly and placed his neatly folded clothes on a chair in the corner of the room. He stands awkwardly next to the bed, and Louis taps the material beside him, Edward smiles and climbs next to Louis, snuggling under the duvet.  _

_ “You alright?”  _

_ Edward nods, head on the pillow, looking up at Louis who’s still sitting up,  _

_ “Thank you, Lou. For everything.”  _

_ Louis smiles softly and strokes Edwards hair,  _

_ “Always.”  _

_ Louis stretches to switch the lamp next to him off and lays his head down, facing Edward. Little by little the boys move closer to each other in the darkness, their breaths echo in the silence of the night.  _

“ _Lou?”_

_Edward whispers, face inches away from Louis’,_

_ “Yeah?”  _

_ “Can I kiss you?”  _

_ Louis’ breath catches in his throat, and his heart almost stops beating.  _

_ “I’m sorry?”  _

“ _Sorry, it’s just that I though, oh nevermind. Can we forget this, please? You’re my dearest friend, I don’t want to ruin that.”_

_ “Well I do.”  _

_ And before Edward knows what’s happening, Louis’ lips have found his in the blackness. It was quick, sweet, warm. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Edward placed a hand at the back of Louis neck and pulls him back, soft lips on warm lips.  _

_ The night wraps itself around the lovers, caressing their love and making it eternal. The morning comes too soon, sun streaming in through large windows, giving Louis that halo that will eventually be real. Edward wakes first, watching Louis in the dawn light, his long lashes stroke his cheekbones before his eyes flutter open.  _

_ “You’re staring.” _

_ “I want to take all of you in. I want to remember everything about you. Every detail.”  _

“ _And now you’re being soppy!”_

_ Louis goes to push Edward away, except the boy grabs him as he does so, pulling Louis on top of him. And he can’t help it, he plants a kiss on his lips before pulling away and getting out of bed.  _

_ One year later and they were official, well, official to themselves. If anyone knew, they’d be in prison within seconds. But they had time, they had their mornings, evenings and nights. They slept in the same bed most days, with Edward sneaking back when everyone was already asleep. They kissed and they cuddled; wrapping themselves in each others warmth.  _

_ On Edwards eighteenth birthday, two months after Louis’, and two years after their first kiss, they made love for the first time. It was sweet and they giggled the whole time, I’m not going to tell you much else, it’s their business after all. _

_ The morning after was the best morning of his life, he felt every little thing. He felt his heart beat and his hair move as Edward breathed softly. Louis moved carefully and placed his head on Edwards chest, his heartbeat drummed rhythmically, almost sending Louis back to sleep.  _

“ _Morning, sunshine.”_

_ The voice stirred him, and Louis moved to see Edwards green eyes peering down at him,  _

_ “Comfortable there?”  _

_ Louis pouted, nodded his head and snuggled down further. Little did they know, as they were laughing their airy laughs and imagining their future together, that a maid had come in, in the early hours of the morning, to light the fire. She saw the two men, embraced in each other’s arms, sound asleep, and ran. She didn’t light the fire, she instead told another maid, who told another, who told yet another.  _

_ The day went by in a whirlwind, Louis had plans to see his friends that night, maybe down the pub? Something low-key and comfortable.  _

_ His friends knew. Of course they knew, this news had spread like wildfire, even his parents knew; they just weren’t prepared to discuss it. So, his friends took matters into their own hands.  _

_ He turned the corner to the pub, it was beginning to rain so he walked that little bit quicker. The sun was setting, turning the sky a brilliant orange. His friends - five of them in total - were standing outside the pub chatting loudly,  _ Already drunk? _ Louis thought. He approached as they went silent and turned to face him,  _

_ “What do you want?”  _

_ Louis furrowed his eyebrows and laughed, thinking it was a joke, despite the seriousness of the tone,  _

_ “C’mon Tom, we’ve been planning this for weeks now!”  _

_ “Yeah? And how long have you been a f-?”  _

_ Louis coughed as a breath got stuck in his throat, he swallowed hard, breathing getting fast.  _

“ _W-what?”_

_ He started walking backwards carefully, trying to put as much distance between him and the group.  _

_ “Are you deaf as well as disgusting?”  _

_ He spit the words at Louis and stepped closer, the other boys following suit. It’s a hunt, Louis thought. And that was the best way to put it, because it was a hunt, and Louis was the prey.  _

_ “I-I’m not-“  _

“ _Oh please! Someone saw you! Now, I’d suggest that you run. It’s so much more fun if they run. Isn’t that right, boys?”_

_ Tom looks to the other boys as they laugh and nudge him, he turns back, eyes dark.  _

_ “Run.”  _

_ It’s a growl and Louis suddenly feels like a deer running from a pack of wolves. But he does, the rain pattering hard on his head, sticking his hair to his forehead, the streetlights are his only guide.  _

Edward.

_ If he can get to Edward, he’d be safe. That’s the only thing that keeps his going, he’s running to Edward, and then maybe they’ll leave him alone. He has a good speed on him, they’re far away from him now, maybe he’ll do it. He could hide? No they’ll find him, just keep running, Lou. Just. Keep. Running. _

_ “We’ve taken care of that little friend of yours, by the way!”  _

_Tom yells behind him, the words echo of off the brick walls around him and knock him off his feet. He squeaks to a halt and falls onto the wet pavement. Louis gets back on his feet quickly, but the boys are catching up quickly, and then his foot gets caught on one raised cobblestone. That’s all it takes. _

_ “There he is boys!”  _

_ His fingers are frozen, his feet too. His lips are turning blue and he hears the footsteps approach..  _


	10. Chapter 10

“Stop!” 

Harry’s voice breaks Louis out of his story, his face is red, tears won’t stop falling. 

“Please, stop.” 

His hands have gripped Louis’ so tightly that they’re turning white. He sobs into his arms and Louis wiggles a hand out of Harry’s grip to rest iton Harry’s shoulder, caressing his spine, moving his head to kiss Harry on his temple. 

“Shh, it’s alright.” 

“No it’s not, Lou! How could they do that?” 

Harry looks up now, lip quivering, he wants an answer, but Louis can’t say anything, how can he? What could he say? Louis rests his head on Harry’s, forehead to temple. His eyes are closed, eyelashes resting delicately on his cheeks. 

“Do you remember dying?” 

Louis pulls away and looks to the floor, avoiding every gaze from Harry, and then slowly, nods his head causing more sobs to wreck Harry’s body beside him, Harry breathes out shakily before talking again. 

“Everything?” 

Louis swallows hard at the question, wishing he could forget everything. 

“I remember all the pain. I felt everything, every crack, every cut, every fucking break. And then I felt peace. Everything went quiet, and I felt myself falling, I closed my eyes and woke up on a cloud, my body below miles below me, lying still in the rain.” 

Harry suddenly flings his arms around Louis’ neck, sobbing into his chest, and Louis carefully hugs the boy back, wary of how delicate he is. A porcelain doll has his hands clasped tightly around him, and the smallest movement will send him crashing, broken pieces would cover the floor, unable to be put back together. 

“Harry? Look at me.” 

The porcelain boy does, he pulls up and looks at Louis in the eyes, holding a strong stare, his eyelashes wet.

“Am I warm?” 

Harry furrows his brows but nods, breathing deeply, 

“Can you hear my heartbeat?” 

Harry moves his head to rest against Louis’ chest, the quiet thrum of his heart beats against the ribcage, and he nods again, sniffling,

“So, am I alive?” 

Harry wipes his nose and sits back, swallowing hard, still holding Louis’ gaze. 

“Yeah?” 

Louis smiles warmly and rubs Harry’s knee, pressing a gentle kiss to Harry’s cheek.

“Yes. I’m alive, Harry. I’m okay.” 

Harry breathes deeply and nods, 

“Okay.” 

Harry goes to the bathroom to wash his face, and have yet another cry while Louis goes and gets the pizza that’s now been delivered. His legs are wobbly from the memory, and his words shaky. 

Harry sits in the bathroom, sitting on the floor, legs pulled up and face buried in his knees. He doesn’t even know what he’s feeling, anger? Sadness? He grits his teeth as he goes over the story again, but decides to shake it off. For Louis. Only ever for Louis. 

When Louis returns, holding the pizza boxes, Harry is setting the snacks out and has further organised his piles. He looks to Louis, eyes still sparkling with the tears, his voice is still hoarse, but Louis elects to ignore it, there is no need to rehash everything that’s already been said. 

“Hey, H. Ready?” 

Harry was pretending to be better now, his smile big, but unfortunately, in-genuine. His eyes betrayed him, they were sad, concerned, and maybe, just a little bit broken. Harry nodded, almost like a puppy and Louis set the boxes down on the coffee table in front of the couch. They identify their pizzas, get drinks and start eating. 

Louis makes noises as he grabs a new slice, looking to Harry with a tomato sauce covered mouth, causing the man to laugh into his water that was previously being sipped. 

“What?”

Louis asks innocently as Harry rolls his eyes playfully, but refuses to tell Louis. That is, until the angel gets close to Harry, close enough for their noses to be touching. 

“Tell me.” 

Harry gasps softly, a sudden urge to kiss Louis pulls him away, and he blinks hard, holding his breath slightly. 

“You alright?”

Harry nods, smiling weakly. 

“Yeah, y-you, erm, you have tomato sauce on your face.” 

Louis pulls away, cheeks burning a deep red as he quickly reaches for a paper towel, wiping around his mouth. 

“You could’ve told me!”

They both chuckle, and for a split second, all was right in the world. _Their world._ Just Harry and Louis, no other person, no demons, no angels, no devils and certainly no gods. _Just Harry and Louis, laughing on a couch._

Once they’re fully stuffed, Harry excitably gets to his feet and reaches for a dvd sitting on the floor; 

“Bond!” 

Louis beams at the boy, crinkles forming by his eyes. 

“Time for my lesson now, is it?” 

Harry nods again and smiles wide, the emotion now reaching his eyes. And that’s when it hits Louis, his eyes. They’re the same. 

As Harry goes to put the dvd on, he turns back to a stunned and silent Louis, just thinking aloud, 

“You know, it’s to weird that your love was called Edward, that’s my middle name.” 

Louis’ jaw is on the ground, he can’t form words. There’s a breath stuck in his throat, and his heart beats harder. Suddenly all of his senses are abuzz, and he’s noticing things about Harry he’s never noticed before. The curls, is that what Edward would look like with long hair? That laugh, that’s the sound that Louis would wake up to in those perfect mornings. Those eyes. Those stupid fucking eyes. They’re like glistening emeralds that would sparkle in the moonlight. The eyes that stared at Louis with the burning love of a thousand stars. The eyes that gave Louis butterflies every time they looked at him. 

“Hey? You alright?” 

Harry’s voice broke his thoughts and Louis blinked hard, looking up at Harry, who was now standing over him, concern mapped over his face. _E_ _dward_.

“Yeah, sorry. Start your lesson, sir.” 

Louis smiled and Harry rolled his eyes playfully, winking at Louis. 

“Kinky.” 

Harry got the first book out, it was big - hardback - and there were so many pages. It was practically a giant brick. 

“What the fuck is this?” 

Louis gestures to the open book in Harry’s lap, 

“Shhh, teaching now.” 

Harry pressed his pointer finger to Louis’ lips, who crosses his eyes to look at the finger, furrowing his brows playfully. 

“So, world war one,” 

Harry starts, removing his finger carefully, 

“Started in 1914, ended in 1918. It started after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria,” 

Harry is reading from the book, and Louis pulls his legs up under him, sitting criss-crossed, staring intently at the younger man, his elbow rests in his thigh and chin rests on his hand. 

“The allies consisted of; Britain, France, Italy, Romania, Japan and the United States, who fought against the central powers, who consisted of; Germany, Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria, and the Ottoman Empire.” 

Louis raised his eyebrows as Harry kept reading,

“Oh, so when you said world war, you meant _world war_.” 

Harry smiled and turned to Louis, another breath gets caught in his throat. _Edward_.

“You have no idea.” 

Louis gestured with his head for Harry to keep reading, swallowing hard and shaking his head gently to rid himself of the thought. The movie playing softly in the background, Louis wasn’t paying any attention to it, intent on focusing on Harry. 

“Unfortunately, upwards of 16 million people had lost their lives due to the conflict, this included both soldiers and civilians. The allied powers won, and in 1919, at the Paris Peace Conference, the leaders of the Allied powers met in order to cement a peaceful post-war world that would prevent another catastrophe, and the Treaty of Versailles was born, and signed.” 

Harry closed the book with a loud thump and turned to Louis. His face was difficult to read, he looked almost calm. He was thinking, trying to imagine what it would’ve been like to live through it. After what felt like an eternity to Harry, Louis spoke, 

“What happened to women’s rights?” 

Harry smiled and took out the next book, 

“I’m glad you asked, my dear.” 

Louis blushed slightly and looked at his hands resting in his lap. _Edward_. Louis mentally slapped himself. Harry explained the Suffragette movement from when Louis had died, until well, now. 

“They went through all that and yet, still had to be married in order to vote?” 

Harry shrugged his shoulders, 

“Yeah, but it’s much better now. Women have rights on their own.” 

Louis scoffed and rolled his eyes, 

“From what I’ve seen on the news, what women have is the facade of rights so that they can’t complain when they are abused by the same men who allowed them to have those rights.” 

Harry looked taken aback, but then he thought about it, sighed, nodded, and lowered his head. Louis nudged him in his ribs, playfully. 

“C’mon, I wanna hear about the other war!” 

Harry giggled and breathed deeply, 

“Okay, but I should probably tell you, this wasn’t just a war. It was a genocide.” 

The air inside Louis’ apartment had changed drastically, neither of the boys could smile anymore, they sat in silence, honouring the lives that were lost. Harry was the one to break the silence, 

“Everything else since 1945 you will catch up on quite easily. I’m not sure I need to go through 100 years worth of history.” 

Louis smiled and nodded, uncrossing his legs, and stretching them out in front of him, grabbing his glass of water and bringing it to his lips, Harry watched carefully, unaware he was staring at Louis’ lips. 

“Alright. Guess I’ll learn on the job.”

“Speaking of; any idea who you’re guarding?” 

Louis spit out the water he was sipping, looking to Harry with wide eyes. 

“I’m sorry?” 

Harry giggled and moved to the kitchen where he returned with a handful of paper towels, 

“You know, the whole guardian angel thing? Who’s your human?” 

Louis weighed his options, it’s Harry, he should know. But then, is Louis even really allowed to say? Well, no one told him otherwise. 

“Well, now you mention it,” 

Harry dabs Louis’ pyjama top, now wet with the water, he looks up at Louis as he talks, dabbing slower to focus on the words, 

“Yeah?” 

It’s almost hesitant, like he knows what’s coming, or perhaps more accurately, fears what’s coming. 

“It’s you. My human is you.” 

Silence. Harry stops dabbing and Louis swallows more water, mouth suddenly dry. Harry breathes shakily, closes his eyes, gets to his feet and steps away from Louis. 

“Harry?” 

His eyes are still closed, anger is beginning to map itself on his face, he sighs, licking his lips. 

“I don’t need protecting, Louis.” 

He finches at the use of his name, it’s almost spat at him. 

“I never said you did.” 

Harry laughs, a dark, nasty laugh. It sends chills through Louis body and his wings threaten to appear. 

“Then why the fuck are you my guardian angel? I don’t have a fucking soul. What exactly are you protecting me from? I’ve lost everything!” 

Louis can see the tears in his eyes, he jerks his head so Louis won’t see them fall, and wipes his face aggressively. 

“I’ve lost everything.”

He turns back to face Louis, his voice breaking, eyes red. 

“ _Everything_.” 

He’s trying so hard to be angry, but he’s breaking, and what can Louis do except try to hold the pieces together? 

He rushes off the sofa as Harry falls to his knees, 

“I’m so tired.” 

He can’t stop crying, and Louis knows that this was always coming. Harry was too perfect, too beautiful not to be broken. Beautiful things are always the most delicate; all it ever takes is a soft touch to tear the fabric. 

“Shhh, I know.” 

Louis wraps his arms around Harry, gently rocking him, 

“So many people want so much of me. I can’t keep up.” 

Louis doesn’t say anything, he just uses his thumb to caress Harry’s shoulder, shushing him quietly. 

Louis hadn’t realised, but his wings had softly grown, tearing the fabric of his top, and curled themselves around both boys, engulfing them in a sea of white feathers. Harry continued crying, finally letting his feelings out. 

“You haven’t lost everything. And those that are lost, can always be found.” 

Harry looks up, sniffling, eyes widening as he realises what’s happened, 

“Louis, your wings.” 

Louis shrugs, holding Harry tighter, wings holding them both tighter. Louis talks as he places his lips to Harry’s temple. 

“They like you, what can you expect?” 

Louis chuckles, but Harry can barely smile, he just looks at the wings in bewilderment. 

“You’re so beautiful, Lou. Do you know that? _So beautiful._ ” 

Louis blushes a deep red as Harry moves his gaze from his sapphire eyes to his lips, and urges Louis to close the gap between their faces. 

He doesn’t, y’know, like an idiot. 

“You look like Edward.” 


End file.
